Nine Lives
by Erica Dawn
Summary: Budd and Bill's sibling relationship from before Budd's birth to just after his death. FINISHED...finally.
1. Default Chapter

Chapter One: Mojave Rattlesnake

This will be the shortest chapter. Please read and review.

The baby blue Ford Thunderbird traveled down the road that had once been paved, but it was so caked with dust that it was hard to tell. Then a figure strode to the middle of the road and stopped. The driver of the Thunderbird followed suit.

"Move."

"No, we have business to discuss."

"Why? You're no friend of mine. I don't know your name."

"No, but I know yours, Bill Albacea."

The twenty-one year old Bill narrowed his eyes and the figure asked, "How is your mother doing?"

The cell phone rang and Bill jumped. His mind had been on something else.

"Elle?"

"Bill, tragic news, your brother's dead."

"What?" he asked, even though he had half expected it.

"Yeah, she put a Black Mamba in his camper."

The sorrow on Bill's face turned to anger.

The sunlight glinted off Budd's Hattori Hanzo sword. He waved it around and then threw it up in the air. It flipped several times and then he caught it by the handle on the way down.

"Be careful. Don't get _cocky_," warned his brother.

Budd aimed the blade towards him.

"Try to take me, old man."

Bill shook his head, but Budd found himself with another Hanzo pointed at him.

"Let's go," said the owner.

"That would be your first mistake, Bella," said Budd and made the first strike which she easily blocked. It continued as Bill watched and sipped his beer. Budd would aim for her head, Bella would block. Bella would aim for his chest and Budd would block. Then Bella scaled the nearby sand dune. Budd followed despite dislodging large pieces. On top, they started again. They parried, blocked, struck and feinted until Bella tired and stuck her foot. It tripped Budd and he fell off. She happily saw that he fell to the right of the cactus as she had aimed, but then she heard an unmistakable sound. It was a low percussion sound.

"Budd, don't move!"

Bella was merely a blur of brown hair and red sun dress as she hurried to Budd's side. She could hear Bill going up the other side. Budd lay on the desert floor with his face about a foot from that of a Rattlesnake's, but he was eerily calm. His body was relaxed and he looked like he was studying the snake from an extremely close angle. His sword lay close to the foot of the dune. Bella picked it up and positioned his and hers so that the blunt sides faced up.

"On my count, roll toward the cactus. One. Two. Three. Go!"

He rolled and she struck quickly, catching the snake between the swords. The four foot long creature shook and wiggled. Budd stroked the red speckled skin that was cold, but felt just like the outside of his boots.

"It's kind of pretty actually," said Budd and Bill got closer. She turned the head toward them.

"Crotalus  Scutulatus," said Bella, smiling, "The Mojave Rattlesnake's venom is the most lethal in North America. Look at the eyes. He wants to strike. He wants to kill us for disturbing his comfortable life. It's all in the eyes."

The two men looked at the snake's eyes a moment and then she slung the snake far away from them.

"It's a beautiful animal," said Bella.

"That's our little Viper Vixen," said Bill.

"I'm a Diva," she corrected.

"You're a what? I couldn't hear you."

"I'm a diva!" she said and added to Budd, "But that thing nearly had you for dinner."

"Ah, Budd's got more lives than a cat."

Budd grinned and said, "I gotta take a leak." He left and Bella sighed, leaning against Bill's De Tomaso Mangusta. Concern shone in her big, brown eyes and Bill hugged her, but that didn't pacify her.       

"He better, he's already four down."

"Budd will do alright for himself."

"How can I not worry? He's our little brother."


	2. 526 Worth of Drugs

Thank you to Stayhooper and Tigerfeet for reviewing! Bella is the middle child. She is almost 10&1/2 years younger than Bill and almost 11&1/2 years older than Budd. Please review and of course, Bill and Budd and familiar quotations belong to Q & U.

Chapter 2: $526 Worth of Drugs

Budd was crouched in an alley outside a D.C. bar. A seedy Congressional aide was going to stroll outside anytime now because of a note that Budd had made sure that the waitress would pass along. The door creaked and Budd readied his weapon, a small pistol. The door opened further and a shot came off. Then there was another.

"Shit," replied Budd, getting up.

"I believe this is the second time that you were just a tad too slow," said the figure coming closer. She was the whore who he had thought was passed out, but he knew her real name now.

"Beatrix Kiddo, ain't ya got nothing better to do than follow me?"

"I have absolutely no desire to follow you. I'm following the money, same as you. Maybe if you hadn't polished off that pitcher, this would be your kill."

Budd angrily put his gun back in his coat while thinking of a retort.

"You're little Miss Perfect?"

"There's no need to get nasty, Budd."

"I didn't introduce myself."

"Neither did I, but you felt comfortable in using mine earlier."

Budd stared at her and moved in closer until he was in her personal space. Her nose wrinkled at his breath. He hadn't been drinking Schnapps tonight.

"You better watch yourself, missy, that's a good way to get bit."

He saw in her eyes the calculations of how to get rid of him. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. Budd came close to Beatrix' face and then kissed her. She pulled away almost immediately and slapped him hard. A bruise was starting to form on his cheek, but he laughed. She looked at him and after a few seconds, she began to laugh, too.

"You are without a doubt the saddest excuse for a person that I have ever met. Did you actually ever contribute to society or were you always a blight?" asked Beatrix, taking her proof of death, "Your silence points to you being a piece of shit, good luck with that."

Then Beatrix left and Budd was alone. His head pounded and he wanted the comfortable bed in the hotel.

Budd slammed the hotel room door, but his head was killing him at this point. He crashed on top of his bed with his boots on. His face may have looked blank, but his mind was full. Events that were half real and half imagined played on the ceiling.

"Budd, don't move!"

"It's supposed to be the best."

"What are you suggesting? Marriage?"

"I love you."

"Who are you?"

"My little brother, the best there is."

"Mama"

"Aww, that's cute. Whatcha plan on doing wid it?"

"Does it get any better?"

"Dada."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Albacea, but…"

"She's gone?"

"Budd!"

"You're a piece of shit."

"Why did you kill me?"

The crunch of metal, the whiz of bullets and the sound of bones breaking filled Budd's ears despite the room being completely silent.

"No!" screamed Budd. He hugged himself and his eyes went to the tattoos on his arms. There was an angel and a wolf and others. He touched the angel and started to cry.

"I love you, Budd."

Budd looked around the room, but it was only in his head. She was still gone. He sucked. He sucked as a person. He failed everyone. He wasn't worthy to exist. He reached into his boot and pulled out the razor knife. He went into bathroom and looked for the bathtub, but it only contained a shower. It would take longer. He didn't want to take that long. He took out the gun and held it to his temple. He knew exactly what would happen.

"What? Gonna shoot me?"

He knew intimately what it would sound like when the metal pierced flesh and bone, scattering brain matter. It was so hard to clean. He dropped the gun on the floor. He would go out, but he would have fun doing it. Budd put the knife back in his boot and gathered up all his money.

Wolfe was smoking a hand rolled cigarette on a dark corner when Budd approached.

"Back in the fold, my man. I knew that rehab wouldn't take."

Budd didn't return his smile. Instead, he handed him $526.

"Give me whatever you got. I don't care."

"Budd, Budd, Budd," said Wolfe, with the mildest of concern. He looked his customer in the face and responded, "So the rumors were true, then. You can't let a ho get ya down."

"Give me my shit now before I break your face."

"Touchy, touchy," he said, putting up his hands and stripping off his backpack. Inside, he had the whole drug store and then some.

"You need some heavy break away. I'll get you this, that and definitely this," said Wolf, poking through it and putting stuff in a Ziploc baggie for Budd, "Here ya go, enjoy the flow."

"Whatever," said Budd, already on his way back to the room with the exception of purchasing some aspirin. Budd stripped the comforter off and set to work killing himself with heroin, cocaine and pills. He also stripped off his clothes. He would go out of this world exactly as he came in with the exception of his mother, but she was dead. His memories continued to haunt him. Everyone he had failed. Everyone he knew who had died. Everyone he had killed. Budd tried to focus on the fireworks going on in his head. There was red, green and yellow crisscrossing his consciousness. Twenty minutes later, he blissfully began to feel separated from this world.

There was knocking. A horrible knocking sound filled Budd's head.

"I'm going to use my key now, Mr. Albacea."

This was definitely not where he expected to be unless Hell was a hotel room. Budd cautiously opened his eyes as the card key activated with a beep and a "Snikt." Everything was far too bright, he closed them again.

"Mr. Albacea, open your eyes," said Richie Keane, the owner of the establishment.

"Budd," he said in an exasperated tone. Budd complied and it was a bit better this time. The owner did not look happy.

"I wouldn't have come in except the other rooms were complaining about the smell. These are my associates, Claude and Charlie. I want him cleaned up, in a brand new suit, walking out of my hotel as soon as possible. You know, I could have you arrested, like one of those Hollywood kids. You trashed my hotel room, but I don't want a scene so I'll be nice, but I'm charging your brother for every single thing. He's a good guy. He would never do this. Why aren't you more like him?"

"I'm alive?"

"Yes, Mr. Albacea, you are."

"Why?"

"I really don't know. Perhaps you're destined for some higher purpose that you haven't done yet…aw, I really don't believe that crap. I honestly don't believe how you're still alive unless you puked and pissed most of it and gentlemen, make sure that no one hears of this."

Richie left and the other two walked forward. They picked Budd up and deposited him in the shower. A pretty good feat considering Budd's size and that Claude had a limp. Claude left for the other room, leaving Charlie and Budd alone. Charlie was enjoying his job. He had turned the shower full blast so that every drop seemed to sharply cut its way into Budd's skin.

"Turn around," Charlie commanded and then turned Budd himself. He seemed bent on removing everything that wasn't skin or hair from Budd's body. Budd didn't mind so much. The pain made him feel alive. He didn't want to be reminded of the night he should have died.

Claude and Charlie led him through the front entrance into a waiting cab. It was two hours later and Budd felt much better. Black glasses helped his pounding head and he had let them dress him in a black suit. He should have let Bill buy him one earlier. It was comfortable and he didn't feel like a dork like he figured he would. He sighed. It was not going to be a pleasant conversation with his older brother.

"You let a nineteen year old get the kill? Twice?"

Budd grimaced at Bill's admonishment. Budd continued to wear the suit while Bill wore his usual western wear.

"Is she special at least?"

"Yeah, I suppose so…for a blonde."

"A blonde, is it?"

Budd saw the familiar look in his brother's eyes. Bill had always been a fool for blondes.

"What about if she joins the squad? She's freelancing, isn't she?"

"I doubt I could win her over with the company lodge."

"Right, well, it just so happens that I have just the thing."

Bill got up and retrieved a small box from a side table. Budd took it from him.

"Bring her here, I'll convince her."

"This'll do the trick," said Budd and he smiled over the box of tranquilizers.

Budd patted his slicked back hair, smoothed his long jacket and pressed the intercom. Her voice was high and full of static.

"Who is it?"

"Pizza Delivery."

"Come on up."

I should have gotten a box, thought Budd. His alias was last minute. He picked three flowers off the bush and waited for the door to unlock. It finally clicked and he went upstairs. He knocked on apartment door 5-I and opened it slowly when there was no answer. Wham! Budd doubled over. His balls were on fire. Beatrix still proudly held the offending skillet.

"I was fixing supper."

"It was a 50/50 chance," said Budd as he remained doubled over. She noticed his other hand.

"Flowers for me? How sweet, now get out," she said, taking them and putting them in a glass of coke.

"I've come on behalf of my brother to offer you a job."

"Let me think on that," she said and looked deep in thought for all of two seconds before saying, "Yep, no."

"That's what I thought you'd say," said Budd as he gathered up his strength. He lunged at Bea and they tumbled over a sofa. His boot caught the bottom and overturned the sofa on top of them.

"If you wanted to be close to a woman this badly, you could have just paid for one."

"It would be wasted money currently."

"Something seems to be very happy to see me."

"You wish."

They wiggled, trying to get free. Bea succeeded first. She grabbed a generic Samurai sword from a cheesy wood holder. It looked like she brought it off television.

"Did it come with a football phone?"

"I got this in Japan."

He shrugged and drew back the side of his coat where his sword was sheathed.

"Me, too."

He took out the Hanzo sword and saw her ogle it.

"It's a pretty little thing, isn't it?"

"No, it's just I've never seen something so ugly."

He knew she was lying. He readied his sword as she readied hers. He swung and caught her arm. She looked annoyed and swung back at him, he ducked. He stuck out his leg and she tripped over a chair into the window. The window cracked and splintered small pieces. Budd went over to find blood dripping from her head and her eyes shut. He grabbed her by the butt to flip her over, but soon found blind controls wrapped around his neck. She rolled him on his back and squeezed as Budd reached into his boot for the syringe. He reached around her to pull the cap off and jammed it into her butt.

"Ouch! What is that?" she asked, letting go.

"Something I got from Bill."

"Oh, I'm gonna kill…," started Bea and then she went limp in Budd's arms. Budd just nodded.

Budd held his ear to the door. The two of them had been in there for over an hour and he was curious how close one of them was to killing the other.

"And do I get a pretty sword like Budd's?"

"We'll see."

Budd chuckled. There was no way she would ever get a Hattori Hanzo sword.

Budd woke up in Bill's De Tomaso Mangusta. His jaw still hurt, but only slightly worse than the black eye.

"Did you have to punch me?"

"It was for your own good."

"How?"

"You dropped out of school. You confronted Esteban. You…You're…"

Bill was speechless as Budd looked at him, but Bill's brown eyes looked at Budd's hazel ones and he seemed to find his voice.

"I know that you haven't had the best of people around to guide you and I'm partly responsible for that, but I'll be damned if I let you be lost this way even if I have to knock sense into you."

Budd tried to process this. Bill had never been a disciplinarian before. He was never around enough. It was always left to Bella and Esteban who used the two extremes of punishment.

"Where are you taking me then? Enlistment? Some sort of boot camp?"

"I was going to take you to China, to the man who knocked some real sense into me."

"Pai Mei."

Bill looked at the road. Budd was struck by how old his brother seemed. Not yet forty, but wrinkles surrounded his eyes and Budd knew he had a part in putting them there.

"I would come back to collect your pieces. No, there's only one man who can tolerate your kind of surliness."

"Where can he be found?"

"Okinawa."

Budd tried not to gape too badly, but he had never been out of the country except for Mexico. Bill stopped at what looked to Budd like a restaurant. He gave Bill a look.

"Breakfast?"

Bill shook his head.

"Never accept breakfast unless absolutely necessary…or sushi, for that matter."

Budd followed Bill inside the sushi place to the counter where two guys were. One washed bowls while the older was waiting, like he knew someone would require his services. Then he recognized who had walked in.

"Bill!"

He walked from behind the counter and hugged his old student. Bill hugged back and directed Hattori's attention to the teenager.

"This is my brother, Budd."

"It's an honor to meet you," said Hattori, shaking Budd's hand. Budd just smiled.

"Hattori-san, we should speak in private," said Bill and he motioned toward the back. Hattori nodded and Budd was left alone. He lit up a cigarette and turned to the twenty-something.

"Your boss, he's some kind of sword-smith, right?"

The older man just shook his head in disgust.

"That is…that is like saying that Buddha was merely a teacher," said the man struggling to come up with the English words as Budd blew smoke rings.

"Oh."

Bill and Hattori continued to talk in the back room. Budd sat down at the bar and the other man continued to clean up.

"What are they discussing?"

"Me, how my brother thinks I have no direction and I'll end up a loser, working in a sleazy bar."

"And you…disagree?"

"Well…yes, but he's my brother so I'll do what he says."

The older man nodded.

"Ah, but you must guide yourself to nirvana."

"What's that?"

"Shit that Hanzo says."

They both laughed and the two older men returned from the back.

"I've arranged your training with Hanzo. You are to stay upstairs and I'll wire you money as needed. Get your things."

Budd collected them and came back. Bill smiled his goodbye smile that Budd knew so well.

"Goodbye, Budd," said Bill and he started to leave, but then he turned back to face Budd, "I lo…you know."

"Yeah," said Budd, Bill had never used the "L" word. Bella told him all the time, but not Bill. He could even dimly remember his mother saying it. It made him kind of sad to realize that he was forgetting her. Then his brother left him alone in the new country with the strange teacher of Hattori Hanzo who turned to him and said, "We'll see if you're worthy of a sword."

Budd woke up when a click turned off the stereo and the sounds of Bob Dylan were silenced. He shifted his weight and crunched the pork rinds that remained in his bag. He looked up to see who did it. There was Bea in her pajamas.

"Aww, you couldn't sleep?"

"Aww, you finally let my brother sleep?"

She gave him a look.

"So, you figured out about Bill and me?"

"It don't take a genius to figure out since you're leaving his room at 2:30 in the morning. To the impartial observer it may appear innocent, but I know Bill too well."

"So?"

Budd got up from the easy chair and crossed the room to Beatrix.

"What? You want my blessing?"

"No, just thought you'd put your two cents in."

"As long as you make Bill happy, but…"

Budd made sure he stood up straight and imposing over her.

"If you…if you ever hurt him, in any way, I will kill you. That's a promise."

Bea nodded.

"I love him. He's the only family I got left."

"I understand."

Bill had apparently taken too long to answer because Elle continued.

"I got her, sweetie," she cooed into the cellphone.

"Really?" asked Bill and she missed the incredulity.

"She's dead."

"Tell me everything."

"Let me put it this way. You ever start feeling sentimental, go to Barstow, California. When you get here, walk into a florist and buy a bunch of flowers. Then you take those flowers to Huntington cemetery on Fuller and Guadalupe, look for the headstone marked Paula Schultz and lay them on the grave. 'Cause you will be standing at the final resting place of Beatrix Kiddo."

"From start to finish, tell me everything."

"Look…I can be there in four hours. Do you want me to come over?"

"No, that's alright, I can manage," said Bill, actually not wanting her to come.

"No, no, no, no, you need me, baby, I'm there."

"Ok."

"Ok, I'm leaving now. You go smoke some pot or something. I'll be there soon," said Elle and with that, she hung up on him. Dope was the furthest thing from Bill's mind. He would have to call a number or two.


	3. In Utero

Thank you to Tigerfeet for reviewing! I hope the quality is consistent.

Chapter 3: In Utero

Bill drove his baby blue Ford Thunderbird as hard as it could go. The reason for his haste was written on the telegram stuck in his travel bag.

Bill sat at his dormitory desk with a copy of Superman spread open. His liberal arts degree was more accurately one on Asian studies and he was supposed to be reading about the Rape of Nanking. Then there was a knock at the door.

            George, the dorm father, appeared with a telegram.

"This just came for you."

"Thanks," said Bill, taking it from him, but he waited for George to leave before opening it. It was from Esteban.

            "Bill, your mother needs you. STOP Paul has left. STOP Come. STOP Esteban STOP"

Bill glanced at the textbooks on the desk, but they could wait. It was just after Valentine's Day and at least three weeks before midterms started. Then he scribbled a note for his roommate, Steve, got together a few things and left in his 1955 Ford Thunderbird.

The ten year old girl was watching television, but he could see her mind was elsewhere. He deliberately slammed the door and her trance was broken.

            "Bill," she said, happily and threw her arms around him. He hugged her tightly.

            "Oh, Bella, how I've missed you."

            "Of course," she was quick to respond, but her delivery was off and followed by, "How is she?"

Bill parked the car outside the hospital and strolled inside. A small radio at the front desk played Porter Wagoner's debut song.

            "Where is Betty Albacea?" he asked the receptionists.

            "Room 212," she said and he nodded. He found her asleep with Esteban sitting close by in a chair. Bill took the other and studied his mother. Her brown hair lay limp across her bruised face and her left arm bore a cast. He took her right hand and squeezed, but there was no response in her brown eyes so he took out his small harmonica. Bill began to play one of her favorite Cole Porter songs. Her eyes fluttered and she began to wake up. Her eyes locked on her son in the chair.

            "Bill, "she said, softly, "he…"

            "It doesn't matter. I won't let him come back."

She tried to smile, but her face was swollen.  

            "Mom's better, she really is," lied Bill.

            "He was so angry…so angry with her," said Bella, tears coming to her eyes. Bill hugged her tighter, wanting her to somehow be happy again, but she had seen too much for such a young age.

            "He's not coming back. I promise"

            "Cause you and Esteban won't let him."

            "Right," said Bill and nodded toward the television, "What is this crap you're watching?"

            "American Bandstand."

Bill made a face.

            "Tell me what books you've read recently."

            "Oh, I'm reading that Encyclopedia set you sent. Did you know that there are people who don't eat meat?"

            "Yes, they're called vegetarians."

She shook her head and said, "That's just bizarre."

            "Bill, come in here."

Bill complied and entered his mother's room where she lay on the bed. It had been a week since her attack.

            "You have to go back to school, mijo."

            "But…"

            "No buts, Esteban has offered to help me until my arm's healed and I have Bella. You have school."

            "If you need anything, just telegram."

She smiled and said, "I couldn't ask for a better son." Bill left the next morning.

            "She was doing fine when I left her," said Bill to the man standing in the middle of the road.

            "I heard about your work for the Acuna boys. My name's Xue Fang."

            Bill couldn't hide his surprise.

            "You almost own the west coast."

            "Almost," agreed Fang, "But I think you can help me with that."

Bill opened the door to the dorm and passed George's room.

            "Bill, wait a minute."

            "The telegraph man brought this by. I hope your mother is doing well," said George, holding out the paper. Budd didn't hesitate to open it up and read it as he made for his room, leaving George to wonder.

            "Come to Easter. Stop. Love, Mom. Stop."

            "Easter?" asked Bill to himself. They almost never celebrated Easter.

Bill parked his car beside his mother's old Dodge Rambler and Esteban's Mustang. Bella had been waiting because no sooner had he gotten out of the car did she throw herself on him.

            "Oof," said Bill, "Get off."

Bella pouted, but Bill motioned to his back, "Get up." Bill had to duck down under the entryway so that Bella wouldn't hit her head and then she slid down. Esteban was in the living room, smoking.

            "Dinner will be ready in half an hour or so," he informed Bill.

            "Bill, is that you?" asked a voice from the kitchen. Bill headed to the sound, but she met him halfway.

            "Bill," she said, happily and kissed his cheek. He kissed her back and hugged her, then pulled back to get a good look at her. His mother wasn't really that old, having only turned forty last summer. The bruises and cuts from her attack were barely noticeable and she was managing fine with her cast. More than that, she was happy. There was almost a glow to her.

            "Spend time with Bella while I finish things up."

            "That looks delicious," said Bill as they all sat down. He noted with interest that Esteban sat opposite his mother. Bella glanced at her.

            "Eteban, why don't you do the honors?" asked Betty, offering the knife.

            "My pleasure for a pretty lady," he said, taking it from her. He cut up the bird and dinner commenced.

            "How are you spending your summer?" asked Esteban to Bill.

            "I'm not sure, maybe travel."

            "Maybe you could stay home this summer because Mom…," started Bella.

            "Now Bella, don't guilt your brother into staying."

            "But he doesn't…"

            "Bella."

Bella gave a look, but accepted turkey from Esteban.

            "How are your classes going?"

            "Ah, pretty…well, a few of them have been demanding."

Bella poked at her stuffing, but she apparently couldn't contain it any longer.

            "Mom wants to give the baby your room."

            "What baby?"

            "I'm expecting a baby in the fall," said his mother, under her breath, "Please pass the potatoes."

It was clear that she hoped not to discuss the matter, but Bill wasn't going to let it go. He would just bring it up again later.

            "You don't have to keep this baby," Bill told his mother as she readied for bed that night. She pulled down the comforter and faced him.

            "This baby survived my attack. Oh, yes, I didn't know, but I was pregnant even then. The doctor couldn't understand how I didn't lose it. This baby must have some purpose and I'm going to let that purpose be known."

            "But your age?"

            "I have Bella to help and you…should you decide to see us again."

Bill looked into his mother's eyes.

"I will."

"Good, I want no more talk of getting rid of this baby. This is your brother or sister and you should be grateful to God."

Budd sat at the bar with a glass of Icelandic Schnapps. He was in a semi good mood until she showed up.

            "I'll have what he's having," the blonde said to the bartender.

            "I think I'll leave now," said Budd.

            "Oh, don't leave, Budd. I think we should get to know each other better."

Budd looked at her. She was drunk.

            "Elle, go home."

            "No."

            Budd got up from his seat. She grabbed his arm.

            "Your muscles are so big and round."

            "Elle."

Budd tried to get her off the chair.

            "Why didn't we ever go out?"

            "Because you were busy fucking Bill."

Budd offered his hand for support.

            "But what about now? I'm sure I can improve your night."

Elle started to get down on her own accord.

            "Elle."

            "I won't take my brother's sloppy seconds."

Budd took his hand back and Elle fell to the floor.

            "But I loved him and he loved me. We were soul mates, or at least good enough and then that bitch showed up," she blubbered.

            "What that was…wasn't love. It might have been lust. It could have been infatuation, but it wasn't love. It wasn't meant to be."

            "How do you know? What makes you such a fucking expert?"

Budd was silent a moment. He played with the rings on his hands.

            "I had it once. I had true love."

            "What happened?"

Budd bit his lip.

            "She died."

            "What? That one in the '80s?"

            "Goodnight, Elle," he said and left.

Budd sought out and found the young woman sitting on a bench, her carryon beside her. She saw him approach and went to him.

            "Budd, this is a surprise," she said, hugging him.

            "Bea," he said. Then he looked almost concerned.

            "Are you sick?"

            "No, I probably ate something."

            "Green's not your color," he said in an imitation of Vernita. Bea had to laugh and a thought entered Budd's head.

            "You're not pregnant, are ya?"

She looked horrified at the thought and quickly said, "Fuck no!"

            "Shh! Small ears," said Budd, referring to a two year old boy with light brown hair that was playing nearby with a toy truck.

            "Why are you here, anyway?"

            "Bill couldn't come in person so he sent me to see you off."

            "He doesn't do that for every viper. He doesn't do that for Elle."

            "The reason is simple, he doesn't love Elle."

Bea was flattered.

            "Does he see you off then?"

            "Each and every single fucking time."

Bea's face told him his mistake.

            "Oops," he said and they laughed.

            "I'm keeping you from your nicotine fix. Go. Tell Bill that I was in high spirits, I'll see him soon and that I…I love him."

            "Will do," said Budd, smiling. He walked off, happy that his brother had found his soulmate.


	4. An IllPlaced Cord

Thanks to Stayhooper and Tigerfeet for reviewing!

Bill heard the baby easily as he pulled close to the house. Christmas was around a week away and Bill's 22nd birthday had been the previous week. He followed the wailing noise to a back room where Bella bounced the infant, trying to make it shut up.

"Where's mom?"

"Out getting formula, here," she said, thrusting the baby into his arms. The baby just stopped and stared at him. Bill stared back. The hair was dark, almost black, and incredibly thick for three months old, but its eyes were what Bill were drawn to. They were old and cranky, but curious. They were also hazel.

"What's its name?"

"Mom named him Methuselah."

Bill groaned.

"She shouldn't be allowed to name children."

"She named me Bella."

"No, she wanted to name you Gertrude until I intervened."

"What's your name then? William?"

"If only, Billeus."

The baby punched out his hand and tried to grab for Bill.

"Nah, not Methuselah."

He studied the boy carefully.

"Budd."

"What?"

"Yep, Budd's more like it."

He drew Budd's head to his face and kissed his forehead. Then wetness spread down his shirt front. Bill's smile grew opposite and Budd laughed.

"He likes to do that," Bella and Bill gave her a look for the lack of warning.

"Budd, you should really stay on my good side."

Budd just laughed again and Bella took him to the changing table. Bill took his shirt off and cleaned up the remaining pee while Bella changed Budd's diaper.

            "It's just so great that you're back."

Bill caught the tone in her voice.

            "What happened? Did Paul come back?"

Bella shook her head as she pinned up Budd. She tossed the old diaper in the pail, picked up Budd and turned back to Bill.

"I really needed you. I was so scared. We almost…lost them."

"What do you mean?"

"When he was born, he had gotten the cord wrapped around his neck. He was blue."

Bella clutched her younger brother tightly as Bill listened.

            "They unwrapped the cord off him and cut it, but he still wasn't breathing. The doctor had to blow air into his mouth and then he finally screamed. He was such a little thing, five pounds, but then mom was still bleeding and they made me leave the room. They told me that she had lost a lot of blood and that they had to give her more."

Bill hugged both of them.

            "Well, I'm here now."

            "And you'll stay?"

            "Bella, I have college…and other things to attend to."

            "Like what?"

            "Fang knows a monk in China that he wants me to train under."

            "Ah, Lana Turner," remarked Bill as he and Bella lay on the couch watching a Victor Fleming movie.

            "Did I ever tell you about when I saw this for the first time?"

            "And I knew that he was a fool for blondes," said Bella, imitating Esteban.

            Bill laughed and said, "Pretty good."

            "He took Budd once when they showed it as a cheapie matinee. He wasn't so enamored though. Esteban said that Budd seemed to hate Lana Turner, grew fidgety and talked every time she was on."

            "Who did he like then?"

            "Ingrid Bergman."

            "Ivy the Bartender?"

Bella nodded and smiled.

            "Of course, she couldn't hold a candle to his childhood flame."

Bella and Bill immediately said together, "Mary Poppins."

Then they both laughed. Bill inhaled his marijuana cigarette and passed it to Bella.

            "How do you think he's coping with Hanzo?" she asked, after inhaling and handing it back.

            "He should do all right."

            "This is _good_," complimented Hattori to Budd. He inhaled deeply on the cigarette.

            "Keep it, I'll roll another."

Budd took out another of his rolling papers and started to make another.

            "Do you ever get sad?"

            "Sad? About what?"

            "Your whole purpose in life is to make weapons of death. Your skill is to make it easier to kill people…that never bothers you?"

Hattori dragged on his cigarette long and hard before answering.

            "I never thought of it that way."

Budd smiled. He had been able to screw with the Jap and it was fun. He decided to read some of those Buddha books for more ideas.

Budd leaned his ear against the thin walls. Hattori and his brother were on the other side and there was arguing.

            "You cannot make me undo this decision. I will make this sword you request of me, but it will be my last and I will not accept payment. It will be my honor to make this sword for such a man."

            "I suppose he is a man now," conceded Bill.

They started walking to the door and Budd hurried to his room.

Moments later, Bill entered. He paced a bit before starting.

            "Hattori Hanzo has stopped making swords."

            "Eh, so he got tired of making them."

            "He said that it was thanks to your influence. Why?"

            Budd shrugged and said, "Because I could."

            "I brought you here to grow up, to lose some of that attitude."

            "I'm grateful for that, really," said Budd and then he got a look in his eyes, "There's a few Japanese women who are grateful, too, but I never was much of a people person."

Bill nodded and said, "I'll be returning in a month to take you back"

Budd and Bill sat on the floor of Hattori's workshop. Hattori held up Budd's sword and Budd noticed that there was writing on it, but he couldn't make it out.

            "There is just one thing I must do," said Hattori and he took out a sheet of paper with Kanji all over it.

            "This sword will be the last made with these hands," said Hattori and he cut his hand, "I swear it."

He spread the blood onto his right hand and pressed the crimson print onto the paper. Hattori wiped the blade with a hankerchief, resheathed it and presented it to Budd. It was only then that he bandaged his own hand. Budd bowed and took the sword out.

To My Brother Budd, The Only Man I Ever Loved, from Bill.

Budd read silently, but his lips moved. Then his lips moved into a smile and tears started to form in his eyes as he resheathed it. He hugged his brother.

                        "Thank you."

                        "Now there's no need to get mushy however beautiful a sword it may be."

            It was more than a sword to Budd though. It was the first time that Bill had ever told him that he loved him.

                        "I wish Bella was here."

                        "You know she hates to fly."

                       "That's an impressive sword you have there, little brother," complimented Bella a few days later in California, "but mine's better."

                        "You can't compare Hanzo swords."

                        "What did they do to him over there?" she half-complained. Then she took a baggie out of her pocket.

                        "I got you a little something to celebrate."

                        "What I told you about that?"

            Bill snatched it out of her hands despite her objections.

                        "If you're going to do that stuff, let me get it for you so I know it's okay."

                        "It is okay. I don't buy from cabrons and only cabrons would fuck you over."

            Bill pocketed it anyway.

                        "You could help me test out my sword," offered Budd.

                        "Or you could help me in the lab," said Bill.

                        "Ooh, what are you making?"

                        "Still working on my holy grail, a truth serum."

                        "I'll go with Budd," she said.

                        "I think it's time, in light of recent events, that I taught you how to defend yourselves," said Bill, holding a wooden object in his hands and speaking to his siblings in the hot California sun. He opened the wooden object to reveal a sword.

"This is the finest sword in the world," said Bill as if he were stating a fact. He gave it to Budd to hold. Budd took the handle with both hands, but underestimated the weight.

"Whoa, it's heavy," said the seven year old and he ended up dropping it. Bill had to smile as he picked it up.

                        "Bella will use the sword. You can use…"

            Bill looked around and spotted a branch. He picked it up and gave it to Budd.

                        "This branch."

            Bill looked at his brother and sister and gave them a brave smile.

                        "No one's going to mess with a member of this family ever again…at least not without consequences."


	5. Premium Stuff

"Happy Birthday, Budd," said Bella, toasting him. The three of them were in a private room at an upscale nightclub in New York

"Twenty-three doesn't feel any different from twenty-two, does it?" asked Bill, swirling his glass of red wine. Budd had his Icelandic Schnapps while Bella was drinking a Mudslide.

"But, unfortunately, forty-four feels a lot different than twenty-three. I'll leave the rest of the night to the young," said Bill, getting up.

"My beautiful Bella," said Bill and he kissed her forehead.

"I hope your birthday was everything you wanted it to be, Budd. I'll see you both in the morning," said Bill and then he left.

"I'm still up for some partying," said Bella.

"I definitely agree with you there."

"Come on, I have a plan," said Bella, taking Budd's hand and half-dragging him after her.

"Gianni!" screamed Bella on a sidewalk in Times Square and ran to a man with spiky blue hair. She jumped and he caught her around his waist. She grabbed his head and kissed him.

"Budd," Gianni acknowledged and slid Bella off him.

"Gianni," said Budd with the same reserve he always showed his sister's boyfriends.

Bella pulled on Gianni's black jacket, giggling. He leaned down and she whispered in his ear. He looked toward Budd and nodded.

"My dealer got in some premium stuff. It's supposed to be the best."

Budd shrugged.

"That sounds good to me."

Gianni smiled.

"He's at this party, but I'm sure we can crash," said Gianni and Bella set about getting them a cab.

Truthfully, the party seemed half-dead to Budd. Several of the partiers already looked deep in sleep on the couch.

"Gianni!" cried a man in a cheap leisure suit. He sniffled and asked, "What can I do for you?"

"I heard that you got a really good tiger"

He looked puzzled for a moment, but soon figured it out.

"Oh, oh, but that tiger'll cost you."

"What's the piss?"

"$800"

"$800?"

"Take it or leave it."

Gianni fingered a spike and looked at Bella before nodding.

"It better be good."

"Of course, of course, why would I lie?"

Gianni followed the dealer to another room.

"I can't see what you see in the guy," said Budd.

"You don't understand because you only have a steady stream of women to screw around with," said Bella.

Budd didn't have a comeback because it was true.

"Vaunald says that there's a bedroom upstairs that we can use," said Gianni with a paper bag. Budd and Bella followed. They found several locked doors before one swung free. Gianni locked it behind them and began taking out the contents.

"I don't know how this could be the best. I had some pretty good stuff a few years back in San Fran," said Budd.

"Relax," said Bella and she added in a much lower voice, "try to get along…for me."

Budd started to object, but finally nodded.

"Good," said Bella, happily.

Gianni had gotten the first of the heroin prepared and was loading it into a needle.

"Birthday boy goes first," said Bella.

"Well, technically…"

Bella cut Budd off.

"We'll pretend that it's still your birthday."

Gianni took a bandanna and tied it tight around Budd's arm, finding a vein. He found one fairly quickly and injected it. Then Gianni started setting it up for Bella.

"Does it feel any different?"

"Not yet," said Budd as Gianni tapped one of Bella's veins.

"Vaunald said that it was a special recipe," said Gianni, injecting Bella.

"I think I might be getting it," said Budd, his left hand shaking. Gianni still had to wait to have his, but it was definitely kicking in for Budd. Actually, a little too well thought Budd a little while later when Bella helped Gianni inject himself. Then he threw up and fell to the floor.

"Budd?" asked Bella, rushing to his side, but then she looked unwell as well. His vision blurred and he could only hear her voice, "Budd! Something's wrong."

He tried to hang on, but he had no control over his body anymore. He sank into a deep, dark hell.

"There's more bodies over here."

Budd heard footsteps and felt his eyes flutter.

"We got another live one."

Budd felt himself being put on a stretcher and carried down the stairs. He opened his eyes wide enough to see Bella and Gianni looking so very still. One of the paramedics took a small flashlight and flashed in Budd's face while forcing his eyelids open.

"Can you tell us your name, sir?"

"Bu…Bernard…Nick," said Budd with barely the presence of mind to give an alias.

"Okay, Nick," said the paramedic with a wink to his partner, "We're taking you to the hospital."

"You know, I hate when we have to clean up after a drug party," said his partner, "Such a waste, twenty involved and at least sixteen dead."

Budd blanked out again and didn't really wake up until the early afternoon. He opened his eyes and took in the strange room, not remembering where he was.

"Where am I?" he asked out loud.

"The hospital," said a voice and Budd turned to see Bill sitting in a chair. Bill's appearance shocked Budd. He looked terrible. His face was tear stained and full of worry.

"The doctors were worried for an hour or so that you wouldn't wake up."

Budd didn't know what to say. There was a moment of silence between the two.

"Where's Bella? Is she here?"

"She's here, but she's not a patient."

"Is she in the hall? I wanna see her."

A tear rolled down Bill's cheek.

"She didn't make it."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Heroin was spiked and it was too much for her. She was dead when the paramedics found her."

"But, no…"

Budd looked at his brother, wanting him to say that he was just fucking with him…but he didn't.

She was gone, dead.

Budd began to cry.

Budd laid a dozen roses each on the grave of his mother and sister. He was lost. He had no desire to do anything except drugs to make the pain go away, but he knew that it was wrong. He had barely spoken to his brother since he had left the hospital. He didn't know what to do so there was only one thing he could do.

Budd let himself in through the kitchen, but was stopped by the fortyish housekeeper, Josephina.

"Donde es Bill?"

"Senor, es su hermano," said Josephina as Budd followed. Bill was looking at the surf coming in on the moonlit beach. He glanced briefly at Budd and looked back at the Gulf.

"Gracias, Josephina."

"De nada," she said and left.

"What do you want?" asked Bill, still not looking at him.

"I need help."

His brother still didn't say anything.

"I don't want to do that stuff anymore. I want to quit."

"Really?"

"I don't want to die like…"

Budd couldn't finish, but his brother turned around. Bill clasped Budd's shoulders.

"I don't want to lose you."

"Please help me," said Budd and Bill nodded. Then they hugged.

Bill helped Budd check himself into rehab under the alias of Ronald Leery. Serenity Isles was located in the middle of nowhere, not too far from Los Angeles.

"Good luck," said Bill and he left Budd with one suitcase in the lobby. Budd was shown to what looked like a really bare bones hotel room and given a schedule.

"Open-Mic night once a week, I need a drink."

Budd rubbed a hand over his head, surprised to notice that his short hair was growing out. Tomorrow, he had an appointment with Dr. Batay, one of the center's shrinks.

Budd picked at the eggs and bacon that he was supposed to eat. Each person had a specific meal plan so they wouldn't substitute drugs for food.

"Hi, I'm Nurse Jessicka. I'll be taking you to your appointment with Dr. Batay."

She was way too perky for so early in the morning. Budd nodded and followed her to another building and a waiting room. He waited a bit, perusing old magazines, but they were all about Charles and Di. Then the door opened and a bearded red-haired man came out. He couldn't have been more than thirty-five.

"Come on in, Mr. Leery."

Budd looked suspiciously and entered the office. It was clinical and professional and put Budd ill at ease.

"Have a seat."

Budd looked around and settled for the black, leather couch although it squeaked loudly.

"Tell me a little about yourself. What's your career?"

Budd thought for a minute, but there was that confidentiality clause.

"I'm a professional assassin."

Batay rearranged his position in the high backed chair.

"Tell me about your parents then."

"Well, I don't know much; mostly what Bill and Bella have told me."

"And they're?"

"My brother and sister."

"Just tell me your earliest memory and go forward."

Budd had to think hard.

"Bill was away at the time so it was just me and my mom and Bella and I was barely three and we saw Johnny Cash in concert."

The doctor wrote this down.

"But the only song I can remember is 'Don't Take Your Guns to Town.'"

"Go on," prodded the doctor and Budd did so that the session ended up being Budd describing his life, "My mom would sing Spanish lullabies to help me sleep, I still remember that…that was my first con job ever…she was…she was the first dead body that I seen…he was the first person that I killed."

The doctor interrupted.

"And how old were you then?"

Budd thought for a moment and answered, "Seven."

The doctor made a little incredulous noise and continued writing.

"Go on."

"…and then my brother gave me my very own gun for my ninth birthday…I was eleven when Bill started paying me to do jobs…when I was fourteen Bella and I went to Washington and went on a White House tour. We snuck off, took some wrong turns and ended up meeting the president which was Nixon…so I decided to confront him about sleeping with my mom…and she had this friend so sometimes there were three of us and sometimes I just watched…almost got bit by a rattler a few months after that."

A sharp alarm went off and Batay looked at his watch.

"Time's up. I'll see you tomorrow," said the doctor and Budd was sent back to the main building. He really didn't like the doctor. He was left alone to his own devices until lunch except he was encouraged to participate in a group activity, like television watching. Budd wrote in the provided journal instead. At noon, there was another carefully selected meal and a group therapy session, full of whiny spoiled brats that Budd felt no sympathy for. Dinner was served at 4:30 and was followed by an arts and crafts session where they made potholders. Budd threw the orange potholder on the small chest of drawers and sat down on the bed. He took his shoes and socks off and sighed. He'd still kill for something. Maybe this wasn't going to work. He took a shower and returned just in time to answer the door. It was Jessicka with a couple of pills and a glass of water.

"Don't get excited. It's to help you sleep. Lights out is by ten."

She made sure Budd swallowed it.

"Good night. Sweet dreams."

She left; Budd turned the light off and fell on the bed. He hoped the pills would kick in quick.

Budd woke up, put the pillow over his face and groaned, time for breakfast again. This time Jessicka didn't arrive to take him to the shrink so he had to go by himself. Budd waited and waited before one of the administrative people came to him.

"Mr. Leery, come with me a moment."

Budd waited for something else, but the official wasn't giving any. He shrugged and followed.

"Actually, I got this thing right now with the shrink."

The man opened his office door for Budd to enter and said, "This is about that. Please sit."

Budd sat down and read the name plate: Lance Hill.

"We have reassigned you doctors."

"Why?"

"Dr. Batay asked for you to be reassigned."

"Why?"

"We and he felt he was unequipped for your case."

"What? Am I too messed up for him, or something?"

"That's not what I'm saying. Dr. Batay wrote that either you were a pathological liar or you had quote, 'Extremely messed up childhood and adolescence' so we reassigned you to Dr. Hooper."

"Who's actually competent?"

Lance took a breath to regroup and said, "Dr. Hooper is an excellent doctor and should have no problem with your case. It's scheduled for tomorrow at one. A nurse will come by after lunch. You may go now."

Gee, thanks, thought Budd, because this was such an honor. He left and went exploring. There were numerous community rooms with people that Budd didn't care for, a music room, dining room and a library.

How desperate this is, thought Budd as he found himself entering the library. It wasn't that he hated reading or books. Bella and Bill had always been on him to read. He just preferred other things to books, like television or listening to a record. This place didn't have much variety though. He scanned the spines, looking for something interesting. Then he noticed a small paperback where the spine was almost not there. Budd couldn't even read the title so he pulled the well-worn book from the shelf. The cover had been torn off, but it still had a title page.

On the Road by Jack Kerouac

The pages were loose and threatened to fall out, but Budd took it to an easy chair by the window and began.

"Lunchtime, Mr. Leery," cried a male orderly, cheerfully. Budd cringed. He was only the beginning of page 136. He stuffed the book into his back pocket and dutifully followed. After lunch, he saw others from his group get up to go to the room. Budd would rather get shot in the kneecaps than go there again.

"Oww," said Budd, clutching his stomach. No one had noticed.

"Oww," he said, louder. Finally, the young nurse Jessicka saw him.

"Mr. Leery, what's the matter?"

"I think it's indigestion from this mornin', I don't feel so good."

"What would you like me to do?"

"I'll be okay, but perhaps I can lie down in my room."

"Sure, of course, I'll go with you."

Budd was annoyed, but supposed it was her job to make sure that he was accounted for. As soon as she left, Budd went back to reading and when he had gotten to the middle of page 381 when 4:30 came, he took it to dinner. Budd ate peas and carrots and closed the book. He was finished.

He couldn't believe that rehab would have this book. It seemed to Budd that they had the perfect life. They did drugs whenever they pleased and did whatever they wanted, traveling across America. Budd decided that was what he wanted to do. He would sneak out tonight after the sleeping pills. After dinner, an old Spencer Tracey film was shown although Budd preferred his films with Katherine Hepburn. He watched until those two special words appeared and then he took off like a shot for his room. He hurriedly took a shower and got his things together. He hid the full suitcase under the bed and waited. A clean outfit lay hung up in the bathroom.

9:30

9:31

9:32

Where was she?

9:33

Finally, he heard her heavy nurse shoes outside his door, followed by knocking.

"Mr. Leery, time for your pills."

Budd sat in a bathrobe in the lone chair as Jessicka entered with her tray. Budd swallowed the water and kept the pills up.

"Good night," she said and closed the door. Budd ripped off the bathrobe and dragged out the suitcase. He opened the bathroom door as he heard the hallway door open.

"Oh, Mr. Leery, how's your…Mr. Leery!"

Budd had been caught with his pants down literally as he was only wearing boxers and a wife beater. She had only to see the suitcase on the floor and the outfit hanging up to figure out what was going on.

"Mr. Leery."

"I have to go."

"Why?" she asked with her hands on her hips.

"I don't belong here. I need to get out, travel maybe."

"Where you'll have easy access to continue your addictions?"

"I can't even smoke in here."

"Everything we do is for your own good."

"And I can't stand any other person here."

"With the exception of me?" she asked, trying to make him laugh.

"Yep," said Budd and he couldn't help a small smile.

"You've seen one of our Psychiatrists, haven't you?"

"Yeah, a crackpot named Batay who thought I was a pathological liar so now I have Dr. Hooper."

"Have you talked to Dr. Hooper?"

"No, that's tomorrow."

"Promise me that you'll see Dr. Hooper. After that, you can leave and I'll understand, but see this doctor."

"What difference would that make?"

Nurse Jessicka glanced toward the door and seemed to be listening.

"Because I share your opinion of Batay."

"So Dr. Hooper is good?"

"Very good especially with your variety," she said, edging toward the door.

"And what variety would that be?"

"Stubborn," she said and disappeared into the hallway. Budd would stay…for now.

Budd woke up the next day and stretched, but he had no desire to leave his bed. All Jessicka's pep talk from the night before had transfigured into fears. What if the shrink was another student of Freud? An old man with glasses asking him about his sex life and whether he ever had a desire to kill his…no, can't think that. I need to talk to someone. I need to talk to Bella…Bella. For a moment, Budd had forgotten, but it was back again. Bella was dead. Bella was dead and there was nothing to do about it. He had even wanted to kill Vaunald, but Bill got to him first.

"Morning time!" said a male with a mop. Budd grunted, closed his eyes and turned over on the bed.

"You have to eat breakfast. I have to clean your room. It's really not that hard."

"No."

"Get your bony ass out of that bed right now before I tip it."

Budd opened one eye to look. He seemed to mean business and had gripped the bed to reinforce the idea.

"Fine, I'm up."

He began to get dressed and the man smiled, "I knew you would make the right choice."

For the third day in a row, Budd picked at his breakfast, but now he had group session afterward instead of the afternoon. He wondered what touchy-feely crap they would be doing today.

One in the afternoon found Budd sitting in a waiting room, imagining what Dr. Hooper would look like. He had come up with a grey haired man, with a freakish red beard like Batay and a horrible scar down one cheek. Actually, the more he thought, the more Dr. Hooper looked like a Bond villain.

"Come on in," said a voice suddenly and the office door opened. Budd entered to find what resembled a living room with a desk. A woman was tidying up dolls and pillows scattered about the room. She pursed her lips and scanned the room.

"That's better."

"So, the doctor's coming soon?"

She looked at him strangely.

"We haven't been introduced, I'm Dr. Marilyn Hooper."

Budd didn't try to mask his surprise. She couldn't have been more than thirty and she was too pretty to be a shrink. Her curly red hair seemed to float on her shoulders and her green eyes reminded him of grass after a rainstorm. He couldn't tell anything else because she wore long sleeves with pants. She couldn't be a shrink and now he had taken too long without saying something.

"I'm just surprised. I was expecting an ugly old geezer."

"I'm glad you're surprised then. Take a seat."

Budd looked at the seating choices and picked a spring green upholstered couch. She smiled and warned, "Don't fall asleep, some do."

Budd could see why, the cushions seemed to envelope him. Then he heard an annoying yapping sound.

"That's Mac Deuxina."

"Mac Whattie?"

She whistled and a white puffball ran to her.

"That's my baby," she said, scratching the small dog, "He's a Brichon Frisse."

She snapped her fingers and Mac retreated under Budd's couch.

"Some patients find animals therapeutic."

Budd couldn't see how the weird white thing could be helpful.

"I know that Batay took notes, but I have a certain incredulity towards Batay since he held such towards you. Start at the beginning, tell me everything. Don't feel you have to spare me or leave anything out."

She pressed RECORD on a tape player and settled herself sideways on a love seat with a notebook and pen.

"Well, I was, uh, born on September 25, 1958."

He looked toward her and she nodded to go on so he did until he told the whole bloody affair. Then he looked up again. She looked at her watch and made a face.

"We don't have much time left in this session so I just have one question for you, what's your real name?"

"What?"

"I believe you which leads me to assume that Ronald Leery is an alias."

Budd hesitated. He hadn't even told the asshole doc.

"I can't help you if you're not honest with me."

"Methuselah Albacea."

He was glad that she didn't make a wisecrack like most people.

"But everybody calls me Budd."

"Then I will, too."

She shuffled her papers into a neat pile and stapled it with a bright red stapler, but Budd wasn't done.

"So I can be helped?"

"I think so, but you do have addiction, abandonment and father issues. We'll work on it."

Budd felt better and he left. Jessicka came by, carrying files.

"Are you going to stay?"

"Yeah."

"Good," she said and hurried off. Budd continued to hate everything that required contact with other people, but he looked forward to his shrink sessions which surprised him when he realized that fact. She was pretty cool though and wasn't fazed by anything he said. Even the sunshine coming through her office curtains seemed brighter.

"Do you enjoy your job?" she asked one day.

"What?"

"Do you enjoy killing people? What made you choose this career?"

Budd shrugged.

"I've never particularly enjoyed it; I'm just good at it."

"Have you ever tried anything else?"

"No, I've been killing since I was seven."

Mac jumped on the couch with Budd.

"I don't really know anything else. I like when I'm killing a shithead. Then I can kid myself that I'm doing something…something almost noble."

"But the guilt comes…"

"It always comes…at night in the dark, but I deserve it."

Budd petted Mac softly, not wanting to look at the doctor.

Another day, Budd entered to find Dr. Hooper singing, "When I'm 64," to a Beatles record. Budd smiled, lost in a memory, but then he realized the memory could never happen again and tears came to his eyes.

"What is it?"

"That was Bella's favorite song."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said and rushed to turn the player off.

"Is there anything else painful in conjunction with her death?"

Budd said the first thing that came to mind.

"My guitar."

"Elaborate."

"I haven't played guitar since she died. The three of us used to play together. I would play guitar, Bill would play a wind instrument and Bella would sing."

"Any good?"

"She thought so," said Budd, trying not to choke up. Hooper took his hand and squeezed.

"We'll talk about something else now."

Three weeks passed and it was the morning of December 8th, Bill's 45th birthday. With a month under his belt, Budd was allowed some leeway and able to skip one group session a week. He would have been only going to Hooper's three times a week, but they had decided that he had a special case so he still went five times. Budd went to the lobby and used the payphone to call Bill. He gambled that Bill was at his place in California. It rang three times before Josephina answered.

"Hola."

"Bill."

"No es aqui. Bill y Elle estan en vacciones."

"Elle? Quien es Elle?"

"Es su novia."

"Novia?"

"Si."

"Gracias, adios."

"Adios."

Budd hung up the phone and leaned against the wall, disappointed. The disappointment was still evident at 1:00.

"What's the matter?" asked Dr. Hooper.

"I called my brother for his birthday and he wasn't there. He was with some woman named Elle."

"Did you think that he should still be mourning over your sister?"

"Well, no, but I think…that we need to stick together."

"But he's done this before, hasn't he? He left most of the parenting to Bella."

"Yeah."

"He has an irresponsible streak that you just have to recognize and not take personally."

"It's hard though."

"I didn't say it wouldn't be."

Budd grabbed at the roots of his bangs, grabbed and combed his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"I take it that you're staying for Christmas."

"Yep."

"Well, they make a mean turkey, it's all pretty good."

It took a moment before Budd processed it.

"You don't spend Christmas…here?"

Hooper looked a little frazzled for once.

"I, uh…my parents died a few years ago, car accident so I don't really have anyone."

"No boyfriend?"

"I think that extends beyond the doctor-patient relationship."

"Oh."

"Now, back to your abandonment issues…," said Hooper and it was all business again after that. A couple of weeks passed and Budd had less than a week to go. He still craved heroin or maybe a little crack, but it was a lot less often.

"I have one more thing that I want you to do before you leave this facility," said Dr. Hooper to Budd who lay on the couch with Mac sleeping by his boots.

"What is it? Anything?"

"Tonight is Open Mic Night. There's a guitar for residents to use. I want you to play a song on it, in front of everyone."

Budd made a face.

"Anything but that."

"No, you're going to play the guitar for everyone, including me."

"Which song?"

"Anything you want."

Budd was still not happy.

"It's time to move on with your life and it's time to overcome being annoyed by over half the population of Earth."

"I'll try," said Budd and she grudgingly accepted that.

Budd held the guitar on the stool later that night and nervously repositioned it twice.

"Come on, Budd. I love when you play the guitar."

Budd could hear Bella's voice in his head from a few years ago. It gave him strength, but he wouldn't sing her song.

Instead, he strummed and started to sing, "Some people call me the space cowboy, yeah. Some people call me the gangster of love." He faltered slightly again, but saw Dr. Hooper. She gave him the thumbs up and he continued. He thought maybe she stick around and say something afterwards, but she didn't.

The next day Hooper suddenly sat upright and signed a paper on her lap.

"Congratulations."

"What?"

"I just signed that you're fit for discharge."

"But I still have issues."

"But you know how to cope with them."

Budd sat upright; he didn't want the sessions to end.

"Can't I at least get a hug?"

"Sure," she said, surprised, getting up. Budd came toward her and inadvertently kicked Mac's ball. He came barreling from beneath the couch and bashed into Hooper. Hooper was caught off guard and fell back. Budd grabbed for her, but his reflexes had gone unpracticed all that time. She fell on her back.

"Are you alright?" asked Budd, offering a hand. Then he noticed how her ankle length skirt had come up to her knees, ex posing the tattoo on her ankle, "What's that?"

"It's an Ouroboros," she explained and let him get a closer look. It was a black snake encircling her ankle fully and eating its own tail.

"You don't have any?"

"No."

She shrugged.

"You seem like the type."

Then she hugged him.

"What was that for?"

"Graduation."

"Oh, yeah, but you're coming for Christmas?"

"Of course, and when you leave."

Budd nodded and there was uncomfortable silence before Budd nodded again. He left and she shut the door behind him.

Budd spent the next couple of days…bored out of his skull. He also couldn't get Dr. Hooper out of his mind. He…missed her.

Then it was Christmas and Budd put on his best outfit. He also went incredibly early to dinner, hoping that she would be early, too. His wish came true. She had dressed up, too. The dress was nice and revealing. Her hair was up which also called attention to a tattoo he couldn't see very well on her shoulder and she wore a cross which cast a dark shadow on her neck.

"Budd," she said, smiling. He returned it and said, "Dr. Hooper."

"Marilyn, call me Marilyn now."

"Marilyn. Where's Mac?"

"He can spend a few hours by himself. Let's sit down."

Budd held the chair out for her and she sat down.

"What did you get for Christmas?" she asked, fooling around with her necklace.

"A postcard with an overseas postmark."

"Sorry, I got cards and socks from my weird cousin."

She continued to fidget with her necklace and Budd continued to stare. The shadow didn't seem to match.

"The necklace looks like it's rubbed off on you."

"What? Oh."

She started to laugh which annoyed Budd. He hated not knowing something. She held up the necklace so he could see that she had the necklace tattooed on her skin. He laughed at his ignorance and asked, "Why?"

"In case I was captured in Vietnam and they took the cross from me, I had it tattooed. Then I would have it forever."

"You were in Vietnam?"

"I enlisted the day after graduation and they shipped me off. I spent two years and figured out that I wanted to be a psychiatrist."

"Why the Army?"

"I didn't know what to do, but I wanted to do something. You never thought about the Army?"

"No."

Food was served and discussion was broken up after that. Too soon it all ended and Budd found himself watching her prepare to leave. Then he got an idea.

"Mistletoe."

"What?"

He looked up and made sure that they had some.

"I'm standing underneath the mistletoe."

"I'm not."

"Then I'll wait for Lucy the Lunch Lady."

She cringed. Lucy weighed three hundred pounds and had a great big hairy mole on her left cheek. His plan worked because she came back. She kissed him lightly on the lips, checked for supervisors and then kissed him lightly again. She got some of her lipstick on him so she wiped that off with her fingers. She smiled and started to leave.

"See you tomorrow, Budd."

"Marilyn," said Budd, smiling and remembering the all too brief kiss.

Budd shook hands the next day with the official people and Marilyn who didn't even give him a smile. Budd couldn't understand it. He packed his things and sadly headed for the door. He was waiting for the cab, enjoying his first cigarette in over six weeks, when she appeared.

"I wasn't about to let you leave without a goodbye, but I couldn't do that in front of my bosses."

She kissed him on the lips slightly longer than yesterday and handed him a note. He started to unfold it, but she stopped him.

"Don't open it here. Just read it before you get on the plane."

"Okay."

She smiled and went back inside. The cab arrived fifteen minutes later and Budd directed him to the airport. He was in the cab when he read the note. It just said: Call me tonight, but it had her number so he did something impulsive. He cashed in his ticket and used it to get a motel room to stay. Then he waited until 6:30 to call.

"I thought you weren't going to call," she answered.

"I thought you knew me better than that."

"Come to my apartment and I'll cook you dinner," she said and gave him the address. Budd couldn't believe his luck. She had invited him to her place on the first date.

He bought a can of hairspray to make his hair go back, but wished he could get it cut. Not enough time, he thought, but just enough time to steal some flowers growing along the motel building.

Budd had never had a better night, he thought later as they sat on the couch watching a rerun. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and then as she settled back, put his arm around her. She grew closer. They stayed that way until the end of the show when she kissed him and announced, "This was great. We should do it again soon, good night."

Budd couldn't disguise his look which she seemed to find hilarious.

"Oh, you thought (laughter) you thought (laughter), but I'm not having sex until my wedding night."

"What?"

"I just think you should wait until you find someone you love, not someone that you're just infatuated with."

She looked at him and frowned.

"This doesn't make you reconsider things, does it?"

"No," said Budd, honestly. He hadn't had sex for over eight weeks, a little longer wouldn't kill him.

"Good," she said and kissed him with tongue. It felt so good, but was over too quickly. They said their goodbyes and Budd left to enter the dark night.

This went on for a week before Marilyn told him that she was going to tell her bosses.

"What should they care?"

"They might."

"Why?"

"I don't know," whined Marilyn, softly, "but they might."

Budd wore a worried expression and she caught it. He was falling for her, falling fast without a parachute or any emergency landing plans.

"It'll be okay," she promised, kissing while playing with his hair, "If you want, you can stay on the couch tonight."

Budd stayed at her place the next day, anxiously waiting for her return. She came home early at 12:25 P.M., Mac leading the way. Budd opened the door and immediately asked, "What happened?"

"I told them that I was seeing you."

She slumped into an easy chair.

"They said that it wasn't ethical. It wouldn't look right for the facility since you were a former patient."

She grabbed his hand.

"They ordered me to stop seeing you and if they found out that I had disobeyed that order, I would be let go."

"What happened?"

She smiled a slightly maniacal smile.

"I quit. I quit. I quit," she said and started laughing. Budd wasn't sure what to do. Then she started crying. Budd hugged her and she grabbed onto him for dear life. He led her over to the couch and sat them down. He rubbed her back and that calmed her out of it. She stopped and sniffled, then nodded.

"I am a Psychiatrist. I can go wherever I want. I don't need them…but I still have student loans!"

She was on the verge of crying again.

"But weren't you in the army?"

"They paid some, but it wasn't a full ride."

"Don't worry. We'll manage somehow."

She smiled at the use of "We" and Mac jumped on the couch with them.

"I really liked my job. It wasn't all spoiled adults beyond repair, sometimes I could actually help."

Budd kissed her cheek and rubbed her shoulders. Mac licked her hands.

"Time to start looking for a new place," said Marilyn, resigned.

Budd smoked a cigarette at the table as Marilyn came back from the ladies room. She gave him a look.

"Why are you smoking? You only smoke when you're nervous or horny"

"Nervous," clarified Budd.

"About what?"

"A question that I have to ask."

"What's the question?"

'It's not time yet."

Budd saw with a smirk that she realized that she would have to drop that topic and choose another. He finished up the cigarette and put the rest of it out of its misery into the ashtray.

"Why aren't you looking?" complained Marilyn toward Budd. It had taken a month, but she had gotten a new position at a retirement home in Austin, Texas. Unfortunately, that meant that Budd should have his own place in Austin as well. Budd disagreed.

"I've looked."

"And?"

"There ain't any place better than that apartment that you got."

Marilyn looked away.

"Your bed's plenty big enough for two people."

"What are you suggesting? Marriage?" she asked, sarcastically, facing him again. They had only known each other three months.

"Well, yeah," he said and held out his left hand. It contained a ring.

"Where did you get it?"

"From the nickel machine outside McCrorys when you weren't looking," said Budd, flashing his smile that few women could resist. Marilyn couldn't help but smile too. She looked him over, shrugged and said, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"You didn't ask a proper question, I don't have to give a proper answer."

She stuck out her left hand, but Budd had to fiddle with the metal bands to make it fit Marilyn's adult size finger.

"I'll get you a better one, I promise."

"I know," she said, playing with it and trying to make it sink in. Then it did.

"We're getting married!" she said, abnormally loud. Other patrons stared, but Budd just laughed.

"You know if we drive out of our way, we could reach Vegas."

"No, we're not. I want a church wedding even if it's just us, a witness and a preacher."

"Madame, Monsieur, congratulations. The man over there paid for this," said the waiter with a bottle of Champagne. She looked at Budd with a question. Marilyn didn't need to voice it for Budd to know what it was.

"I'll have one glass, you can drink the rest and I'll drive us home."

"Groovy," she said in agreement. They drank from intertwined glasses and then she drank some more.

Budd studied the naked body of his fiancée later that night. She had four tattoos in all. The Ouroboros thing on her ankle, the cross on her chest, an army tattoo on her shoulder and a violet dragon on her right buttock. He began kissing the necklace tattoo, following it down her cleavage. His lips caught the edges of her breasts. She murmured in her sleep and he kissed her lips. They reflexively kissed back and she slowly came awake.

"You slipped up," Budd commented.

"Just a little," she said, the Champagne still partially talking.

"Tell me about your tattoos."

"Which one?"

"The Ouroboros."

"The snake is my Chinese zodiac animal, but it's also a reminder not to do something that ends up biting me in the ass."

She laughed and Budd joined her.

"I want a tattoo," said Budd.

"You got me the ring so I'll pay for the tattoo, but I get to pick."

"Okay," said Budd and he kissed her again.

"I don't wanna talk anymore," she said and let her fingers do the talking by stroking his penis. Budd was perfectly happy to oblige despite Mac yapping to protect his mistress.

Bill had his shirt off and was working on his pants. Elle, on the other hand, was already naked. Then the door bell rang.

"It's two o'clock in the morning!" complained Elle, who was in no mood to put her clothes back on. Bill zipped up, but didn't bother with the button on his jeans. Then he heard the lock being turned. Apparently, the doorbell was merely a warning. Bill thought fast. He hadn't given the key to that many people. The door opened to reveal Budd and a woman several years older than him with curly red hair.

"Budd."

"Bill."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm not allowed to see my brother who I haven't seen for over three months?"

"Well, no, but perhaps at a more decent hour when I'm not busy."

Budd briefly glanced at Elle who was clutching an oversized pillow.

"I'm also here for some of my things. I'm moving out."

"What?"

"We got a place in Austin. Marilyn, Bill. Bill, Marilyn," said Budd and he left for one of the back rooms. He started dumping items in a bag as soon as he got there.

"Everything else in New York?"

"Yeah."

"I tried calling, but you weren't here."

"I get the feeling that you're annoyed with me."

Budd zipped the bag shut. He would pick up the New York items later…but not soon.

"No, why would I be annoyed with you? Because you're always with Elle?"

"I've made Elle a Viper; California Mountain Snake."

"That's good," said Budd, carrying the bag back to the front room, "because you don't have a Sidewinder."

Budd smiled at Marilyn.

"I quit."

The two brothers looked at each other while the women shared uncomfortable looks.

"You're only using Elle to avoid thinking of Bella."

"Aren't you guilty of the same thing?"

"Marilyn's different," he said squeezing her hand, "She's my wife."

Bill was flabbergasted, but he saw that his brother had a gold band on his hand.

"When did this happen?"

"A few days ago, I tried to call."

"But you're wrong, I do…love Elle."

Budd shook his head.

"If you really loved her, then there would be no hesitation."

Budd headed with Marilyn for the door. Bill let him open the door before speaking.

"Congratulations."

Budd shut the door, but Marilyn said loudly so it could be heard through the door, "It was nice meeting you."

Four years passed, Marilyn concentrated on a job while Budd concentrated on his lack of one.

Budd was fixing breakfast while she got ready for work. The radio was full blast and Budd couldn't help himself when the song came.

"Well, I don't know why I came here tonight. I got the feeling that something ain't right. I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair and I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs," sang Budd as wiggled his hips. Then Marilyn arrived with a smile and her power suit. He immediately grabbed her and swung her to the right.

"Clowns to the left of me."

Then he swung her left.

"Jokers to the right."

Then he spun her in to him and did a nice close Meringue.

"Here I am Stuck in the middle with you."

They danced the entire song. Marilyn had once asked Budd how he learned to dance and he told her that it was a combination of the swing moves that Bella had learned from their mother and the Latin dances that Esteban had taught him.

"Here I am Stuck in the middle with you," sang Budd and dipped Marilyn as the last of the song played. The monotone DJ came on and they kissed. Budd brought Marilyn back up and she laid her head on his chest.

"Let's have a baby."

Budd shook his head.

"No, we should wait. Save a little more. Pay off your student loans."

Marilyn sighed.

"I want everything to be perfect."

Marilyn looked up into his eyes.

"It's never going to be perfect unless we see it that way. I see it that way now."

She laid her hands on his arms and caressed them.

"I'm scared, too."

"I love you," said Budd and she smiled. She knew him so completely.


	6. George Brown

Bill, Bella and Budd all sat watching the television. Bill inhaled on the rolled cigarette and said, "Look at Farrah Fawcett go." Budd and Bella looked over at each other and smiled. They were both thinking that he only liked her because she was a blonde. The three women kicked more ass on-screen as they all shared the cigarette. Then Bella spoke.

"We could do that."

"What?"

"Have our own group except that we're professional assassins."

"I'm no Angel," said Budd.

"That's for certain," said Bill.

"No, we could have a different name," said Bella.

It was Bill and Budd's turn for a private smile. They would humor her.

"And what would that be?"

Bella had to think for a little bit before responding, "Snakes."

"Snakes?" asked Bill and Budd at the same time.

"Snakes are cool," she said and they laughed, but she was serious.

"Yeah, we could be named after a deadly snake, like a viper."

It was too late now, she was on a row.

"I could be the Tiger Rattlesnake," said Bella, excited. She thought for a minute.

"And Budd could be Sidewinder."

"Why Sidewinder?"

"Because you have to be provoked and even then, you have just a little poison and you always feel guilty afterward."

Budd nodded silently.

"What about me?" asked Bill.

"Eh, you're Bosley."

"Bosley, but Bosley's just a faceless voice telling them what to do."

"You're Bosley."

"But I do stuff. I take just as many jobs."

"Fine, then you're the snake charmer," said Bella. She started humming an Egyptian tune and dancing like a snake. Budd joined in and Bill shook his head.

"You're both hopeless," he complained.

Budd entered Bill's office to find what was nothing more than a shadow of his brother. Bill hadn't looked this bad since Bella died. He sat at his desk, nervously tapping a manila folder.

"You found her?"

Bill gave the briefest of nods and gave Budd the folder.

"These were taken by Elle two days ago in El Paso."

Budd wanted to know what was causing his brother so much pain. He had already been grieving for three months over Bea and when he found her killer, Budd would do his part.

Budd opened the folder and received a shock. It was tight close-ups of Bea. She was alive and kissing another man, a man more her own age She seemed in love. He ran a hand over his tight, gelled hair. He didn't want to believe, but the truth was there in black and white. He sighed and gave his brother a sympathetic look.

"What can I do?"

"Bea and her young man are marrying in two days."

"Didn't waste time."

"Neither did you as I recall."

Budd forced a smile. His brother caught it, almost sorry that he mentioned it.

"Anyway, I felt it was impolite of her not to have invited her nearest and dearest so I thought we would just show up anyway."

"Give them a good send-off?"

Bill nodded and Budd nodded as well.

"I got the rest of the Vipers coming as well."

Then Josephina entered and they had dinner.

Bill and his DIVAS along with Sofie were within eyesight of the small chapel.

"Give me some time with her. Budd will know the signal."

The other three nodded.

"Once inside, take out whomever you please…except her. You can beat her to within an inch of her life," said Bill and only his brother could hear the tremble in his voice as he said, "but I want to be the one to kill her."

The four nodded and Bill seemed satisfied. He took his flute and Budd moved them slightly farther away so she wouldn't suspect. He watched as his brother played and Bea came out. Bea looked different, fatter, but there was something that Budd couldn't put his finger on from this distance. He waited. After an eternity, Bill entered the chapel. Budd led them closer. Then his brother gave the signal. The four of them readied their guns and entered the wide entrance. He heard Beatrix scream, "No, Bill! No!" but he didn't want to look at the traitor. Instead, he was deciding who to shoot. They all took out Bea's young man. Budd wasn't even sure that he would be recognizable when the smoke cleared. Elle went for the organ player next. O-Ren, Sofie and Vernita were taking out Bea's new confidants so that left the minister and his…wife, Budd supposed, but Budd smiled. They looked like they couldn't decide between running and praying for help. They also looked like the kind who thought they knew God and the bible better than God himself. Marilyn had called them abominations. He easily took them out which left: Bea.

They all turned to her and Budd took a good look at her.

"Shit," he said, softly and remembered the last time that he had seen her. It had been six months ago.

"You're not pregnant, are ya?"

"Fuck no!"

Budd was very tempted to weasel out, but a promise was a promise and he had promised her.

"If you…if you ever hurt him, in any way, I will kill you. That's a promise."

There was one problem. Bea hadn't gotten fat. She was pregnant and he immediately knew who the father was even if the father didn't. Budd looked Bea up and down. She was pretty in her wedding gown. He had mere seconds to figure out what to do. He had no intention of hurting his brother's kid. She was in her third trimester, maybe he could just hurt above the baby. Yep, that was what he would have to do.

Then it started. They surrounded Bea in a circle and proceeded to beat her up. Budd watched himself. He punched and slapped, but she always landed in the arms of another Viper. He had a slightly different perspective on things than the women. They had no qualms making her eat the sandy, wooden floor especially Elle. Then again, Elle had always been jealous of Bea. Sophie mostly talked on her phone. This continued until Bea couldn't get up. She had become the blood-splattered bride. Budd was relieved that none of the blood appeared to be from the baby. Bill approached her. He took out the handkerchief, one of the ones that Josephina had embroidered. He started wiping some of the blood off her face.

"Do you find me sadistic?" he asked, but didn't expect a reply. Budd saw nothing but hatred in Bea's eyes.

"I bet I could fry an egg on your head about now, if I wanted to."

Bea made no reply. Budd cast a sad look at her, but he knew that she had taken it wrong.

"No Kiddo, I'd like to believe, even now, you're aware enough to know there isn't a trace of sadism in my actions…okay, maybe towards these other jokers, but not you."

He had gotten a lot of the blood off, but so much still remained.

"No Kiddo, at this moment, this is me at my most masochistic."

Budd didn't want to watch anymore. His brother had his gun out. He wanted to make him stop, explain things, but Bill's head would be impenetrable at this point. Budd could only watch as his brother would make the biggest mistake of his life. Bill cocked it and Bea saw what was going to happen.

"Bill, it's your baby."

Budd shut his eyes as his brother pulled the trigger, the bullet lodging in Bea's head. Bill had probably just killed his own child. Budd opened his eyes and looked at the older man. Bill's face wore a look of shock at what he had actually done and Budd could tell that he didn't believe Bea's truth. Bill took one last look at the love of his life and said, "Let's get out of here."

Budd hurried out of the church and into Bill's car. O-Ren and the girls took off in another car. The ride was quiet between the two siblings, but Budd's head pounded loudly.

"No, Bill!"

"No!"

"Bill, it's your baby."

Budd closed his eyes in a wince as he relived the sound of that gunshot. Bill parked the car outside the rented villa. Budd quickly exited and deposited his breakfast on a nearby patch of ground. Bill calmly closed the door and stared blankly at the desert. Budd slowly made his way over to him. They didn't talk for several more minutes.

"I quit."

His brother just looked at him, patiently. He had heard this before.

"I mean it this time. I meant it last time. I'd rather be retired and living with Marilyn, but…I'm not doing this again."

Bill didn't say anything.

"I didn't come back so I could beat up a pregnant woman."

"She hurt me deeply."

"She was pregnant with your child."

"You don't know that."

Budd had to stop himself from saying, "I do." He had done what Bea had asked so Bill only knew Bea's version of the airport send-off.

"Stop being stupid. She wasn't gone long enough for it to be his."

"So, what if it was mine?"

Budd was exasperated.

"You have a responsibility. You have a child."

"Bea said it was a girl."

"Then you have a daughter."

"She's probably dead."

They didn't look at each other.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Double check, see if they were able to save her. Bea was into her third trimester so maybe…"

"Probably just as good without me…"

"Without you? You're her father. You knew her mother."

"Does it really matter?"

Budd pulled at the hair that was stiff on his head. He needed a cigarette. He rustled through his suit until he found a pack and lighter. He lit it and inhaled deeply.

"You don't realize how much. You can't know, really, but once you have her in your arms, this tiny little thing. Count all her fingers and toes and look into those eyes. It changes. You'd do anything. You'd die for her."

Budd smoked deeply on the cigarette. A rift was developing between them. Finally, Bill said, "I'll look into it." Budd just smoked his cigarette some more.

Budd hastily put out the cigarette and put the ashtray on another table as soon as he saw Marilyn out of the corner of his eye. She was walking slowly, toddling really. It was to be expected though by anyone in her position. Eleven month olds aren't the best of walkers and the boy at her side was no exception. She held his hand tightly until he squealed, "Dada!"

Then she let go and he tried to run to Budd's open arms. He got a few steps and fell. He propped himself up with his hands and looked briefly like he was going to cry, but he thought better of it. He picked himself up and ran the rest of the way into his father's arms.

"There's my Brian," he said and hugged him. Marilyn kissed him on the lips and sat down beside him. Budd made no move to give Brian back and she smiled.

"I still can't believe your boss would make you work on Christmas Eve."

"What can I say? The boss is a dick."

"Shh! Small ears, I don't want Brian picking up your potty mouth."

"Sorry," said Budd, readjusting Brian on his lap. Patti, a young waitress approached them.

"What can I get you, Marilyn?" she asked. Budd already had the remains of a greasy burger platter.

"Do you have any salads?" asked Marilyn.

Patti seemed confused. Her face looked like she was trying for an answer, but it wasn't there.

"Just kidding, I'll have what he had," said Marilyn. Then she turned to Budd and said, "I love doing that."

"There's no fries right now, fryer's on the fritz again" Patti informed them.

"Since when?" asked Budd, readjusting his hat.

"Five minutes ago, it must have figured out that you were on dinner break."

Budd was not looking forward to messing with that thing.

"I'll just have the cheeseburger then."

"And for the baby?"

Budd and Marilyn looked at each other. Brian looked intently at the salt shaker.

"Usually, he eats my fries," she said to Patti.

"He only has five teeth," explained Budd.

"Six," Marilyn corrected him, "Another one came in today."

Budd made Brian open up so he could see the new tooth while Patti thought.

"We have ice cream."

Budd and Marilyn nodded.

"Coming right up."

"You're still missing him, aren't you?"

"I had him for nine years."

"Maybe it's time to get another dog," said Budd, caressing Marilyn's ring hand. She refused to replace the cheap engagement ring, wearing both it and her real wedding band.

"Maybe…"

Unbeknownst to Marilyn and Budd, Brian had reached across and gotten the salt shaker. He giggled happily as he got it unscrewed and the salt dumped everywhere. He had his father's laugh.

"Brian!" said both his parents and his face wore a look of surprise as though they weren't supposed to catch him.

Budd went for the salt shaker, but Marilyn stopped him.

"Brian, twist it back," she said, miming the actions. He complied and she grabbed it before he could undo it again. He pointed to the mess and said, "Voom." Marilyn shook her head and said, "No vacuum." Brian looked disappointed.

"Sometimes I could almost swear he breaks stuff just to see me get the vacuum out."

Budd tried hard to repress a smile.

"Well, you do look good with a vacuum."

"I'm really hoping that's not Brian's reasoning. He must get it from your side of the family."

"Why mine?"

"Because yours is the weird one."

Budd gave her a look and she smiled, innocently.

"Speaking of which, Bill sent us a package today. What's with that look? You look like he sent us a rattlesnake, or something."

"He did, didn't he?"

"No, he was nice."

"Bill is never nice."

"Well, he was this time, sort of. He gave Brian a stuffed cow, wearing pajamas, that talks."

"It talks?"

"Yeah, it says a number of things and snores."

"Can we take the battery out?"

Marilyn laughed.

"Yes, but Brian will like it when he's older. He gave me a Turquoise necklace."

"And me?"

"I'm not going to spoil the surprise, very cute."

Budd had a bad feeling.

"Budd, your break was over five minutes ago," said a large man, with short brown hair, loud enough that the entire diner could hear. Budd sighed and kissed Brian on his perpetually dirty cheeks. Then he gave him to his mother and gave her a kiss as well, but it was on the lips.

"See you in two hours?"

"Hopefully," said Budd.

"Maybe Brian will take a nap."

"No," said Brian. Marilyn sighed, Budd smiled and went back to work.

Budd parked their 1984 red Volkswagen Rabbit. It wasn't the only car parked in front of their house. A familiar De Tomaso Mangusta was also parked.

"Why's he here?"

"Who?" asked Marilyn, getting out and heading to the screaming Brian.

"Bill."

"Your brother?"

"Yep, and he's watching us right now."

Marilyn took Brian out of his seat and noticed that Bill was indeed playing a harmonica while watching them. Budd finally got out of the car.

"Hello, Bill."

"Budd, Marilyn, I thought it was about time I saw my nephew."

"It took you nine months to figure that out?"

"Well…" said Bill, shrugging, "I found a Cottonmouth. She's a spunky woman, half-Japanese, half-Chinese, half-American."

"But that adds up to…" started Marilyn, but Bill interrupted, "Don't think about it too much."

Bill studied the baby boy. He had curly, strawberry blonde hair with bright, blue eyes. There was a twinkle in his eye that Bill couldn't help but like.

"May I?" he asked, his arms open.

There was hesitation in Budd's eye, but Marilyn handed the boy to his uncle. Bill held the boy close and Brian began to cry. Budd took him and he stopped.

"He gets that way with strangers," explained Budd.

Bill forced a laugh and replied, "It still went better than the first time I held Budd."

Marilyn's interest could easily be seen in her eyes.

"What happened?"

Budd headed for the house as fast as someone who had heard a tale many times before.

"He pissed all over me," said Bill, laughing, "It went right through his diaper and through my shirt."

Marilyn laughed as well until they both heard the front door slam. He wondered what she would do.

"Would you like to come inside?"

"I really do," said Bill and they followed after Budd and Brian.

Budd smoked his cigarette, waiting for the red Rabbit to appear. Ten years ago, his twenty-year-old self would never believe the joy he would get from seeing a small red car. It was who was inside the car that counted though, Marilyn and Brian. He loved them with everything he had. Then, it appeared. Marilyn drove up to the curb and stopped. Budd knocked on the door and Marilyn rolled it down. He noticed she was wearing her new turquoise necklace along with the cross.

"You looking for somebody because I could show you a good time, only fifty bucks."

"Fifty bucks? Too cheap for me, plus you smell from that fryer. Guess I'll just have to keep looking."

They looked at each other and Marilyn said, annoyed, "Get in."

Budd got in the car, kissed his wife and smiled at his son who smiled back. Brian definitely had Budd's smile. Then Budd saw Brian's apple juice on the floor.

"Here ya go," he said, handing it to him. Marilyn smirked and Budd caught it as he fastened his seatbelt.

"What?"

"You'll see. He's in one of _those_ moods."

"No nap?"

Brian threw the bottle, hitting the back of Budd's seat.

"Not at all."

Budd picked it up and gave it back. Brian threw the bottle at the back of Budd's seat again. Budd picked it up and kept it.

"That's it. I'm keeping it until we get home."

Brian started to cry. His parents tried to focus on the road. A minute went by before Marilyn glanced over at Budd and he knew that she knew what he was thinking. He gave the bottle back and Brian quieted.

"What a pushover," said Marilyn with a smile.

"I know you are, but what am I?"

"Oh, you are so going to get it when we get home," said Marilyn, turning the car left. Then Brian threw his bottle again. Budd sighed and Marilyn laughed.

"How long this time? A whole two minutes?"

"Nope, not gonna give in this time."

Brian seemed to know that crying wasn't going to work so he switched tactics.

"Mama! Mama!"

Marilyn made no move to get his bottle.

"Dada! Baba! Dada!" shrieked Brian, continuously.

"He's calling for you by name," said Marilyn.

"Dada!"

Budd started to give the bottle back. Brian stretched out his arms and happily said, "Dada!" Then his dad gave the bottle back.

"Hold onto it this time, will ya?"

Marilyn smiled, but then a shadow fell across her face. Budd caught it.

"What is it?"

"I really liked being home today."

"Those old geezers hitting on you again?"

"No, they're all full of regret and I get to hear about it. Come on, change, will you?" asked Marilyn to the red light.

Budd laid his hand on her leg because he knew it was best to not interrupt when she was on a rant.

"All day long, how their whole life was a waste because they made a wrong choice in seventh grade. I wish more of them were relieved or at least had real problems, but all day long, talk, talk, talk, talk. It's so nice to get home to some quiet especially since Brian only knows four words. Why are you still red? It's Christmas Eve. We need to be at home."

"You could try the magic word."

Budd saw the smart-ass gleam in her eye as she half-closed her eyes.

"God, make the light turn green."

"Please," added Budd.

"I know," said Marilyn, "I just figured I'd call on a higher authority than please."

The light turned green.

"Ha, it worked," said Marilyn, looking for cars. The only other vehicle was a faded blue pickup truck with plenty of time to stop. She pressed the gas, but the truck didn't stop. The pick-up truck slammed into them and the small car crumpled under the pickup truck's weight. Budd heard three screams and then there were just two. His head smashed through the passenger window so that his vision was blurred with blood. He could even taste it.

"Marilyn," he said and looked over at her. She was covered in blood and glass. Budd tried to move his legs, but they were pinned. He couldn't even see hers. He tried to undo his seat belt, but it wouldn't budge.

"Are you okay?" they asked at the same time.

"Everything hurts," said Marilyn, on the verge of tears. Budd decided to ignore his pain for her sake.

"I'm fine."

"Liar, how's Brian?"

Budd felt a pang of guilt for not thinking of him sooner. He tried to tilt his head, but it hurt to move it too far. He could see where the car had crumpled, but not Brian or his seat. The rearview mirror had also broken off, but Budd had a bad feeling that Brian should have been making noise.

"He's, uh, he's sleeping," said Budd, trying not to break. Marilyn easily saw through this lie and let out a huge sob. Budd wished he could hold her, but he was pretty sure that his left arm was broken. At least, that was his guess due to the white bone that was peaking from beneath the skin.

"It's going to be…," started Budd, but Marilyn shook her head slightly, interrupting.

"No, it's not," said Marilyn and she coughed. Budd hoped the flecks of blood were his imagination. She looked down at herself and he was forced to realize that she was getting bloodier by the minute. He leaned his right hand over and she grabbed it with her right. A spot of blood appeared at the corner of her mouth.

"Budd, I…I will always love you," she said, blood flowing from her mouth. She started coughing and more came out.

"I love you, Marilyn," said Budd, tears flowing from his hazel eyes. Marilyn forced a smile at him and then she was gone in another gurgle of blood.

"No! Marilyn! No!" screamed Budd until his throat was sore, there were sirens in the distance and Budd mercifully blacked out.

"Well, Mr. Albacea, it could have been a lot worse. You have two broken bones in your left arm, but we able to set it without pins. You'll just have to wear a cast for awhile. Two broken ribs, but they'll heal as well, just take it easy. Your face required seven stitches and your legs will be pretty bruised for awhile. Any questions?" asked the young doctor with short dark hair.

Budd had no concern for himself, he only wanted confirmation.

"Marilyn."

The doctor got an uncomfortable look in his eye.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Albacea, but…"

"She's gone?" Budd asked, but only half-meant it.

"She died as a result of her internal injuries."

"And Brian?"

"He died on impact."

"What happened to the driver?"

The doctor didn't look at him at this point.

"He had some facial lacerations, but that was pretty much it. He didn't even feel it. His blood alcohol count was through the roof."

"He was drunk?" asked Budd, with a hard edge to his voice that the doctor hadn't heard yet. The doctor seemed to want to back peddle his information.

"Yeah, he probably didn't even see your car."

Budd was already planning a murder when the doctor continued.

"Do you feel up for visitors?"

"Why?"

"There's a man to see you, but he said to ask you first, wasn't sure that you would want to see him."

"What's his name?" asked Budd, but he was fairly sure he already knew.

"Bill."

"Let him in."

Bill's clothes were rumpled from a long wait and he looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. He took a chair and moved it close to Budd. They looked at each for several seconds before Bill found his voice.

"I can't even begin to imagine the pain you're going through. I have no idea, but I want to help in any way I can."

Budd tried to smile, but wasn't capable yet.

"I'm glad you came. Can you get me some water?"

Bill began to pour a cup for Budd.

"Can you help me look over things? Apparently, I won't be able to so well."

"Of course," said Bill, handing him the cup, "Actually, I already let myself in, checked messages and the like. Oh, uh, I picked up Carly and she's in the backyard."

Budd looked somewhat concerned at this.

"You put out enough food and water?"

Bill sighed.

"I do know about dogs, Budd. She's a beaut though, a nice Beagle puppy with bright brown eyes."

"You get to repair the holes she dug to the fence."

"How did you name her Carly?"

"Carly was what we going to name Brian if he was a girl. She was going to be a Christmas present for Marilyn."

"Oh."

Budd scrunched up his face, trying not to cry.

"I just keep hoping it was a bad dream."

Bill patted Budd's arm, he seemed unsure of what he could do that wouldn't cause Budd more pain. They sat for a minute or so longer and Bill got up.

"I should probably go."

Bill only got a few steps before his brother stopped him.

"Don't…don't go, just sit, will ya?"

"Alright," said Bill and he returned to his seat. Budd was grateful for the company.

It was a windy, wintry Wednesday when Bill helped Budd out of the car He had his cast and a cane because his legs still hurt. It made things difficult. Bill unlocked the door and a small blur bounded out, yapping. Carly stopped on seeing Budd. Her eyes were confused. She looked from Bill to Budd and back again.

"I only saw her once three weeks ago when I picked her out," said Budd, coming closer. Bill held the door open and Budd made his way in. Then he shut the door before Carly could get in. He leaned down to her level and stared into her brown eyes. She stopped yapping.

"I'm not your master. Budd, the guy in there, he's your master. Don't leave him."

Bill opened the door and Carly ran in. Budd stood in the living room. Bill hadn't had the guts to take down the tree or presents. He had just maintained the upkeep.

"You still want some time?" asked Bill and his younger brother nodded, "I'll call you tonight."

Bill looked at him once more and left. Budd was left alone in the house with Carly…and memories. The house seemed to be waiting for the rest of its occupants. The Christmas tree still stood and the presents were still under it. His and Marilyn's were tightly wrapped. Brian's presents had been placed in gift bags or bound in tissue paper so he could open them easier. A white bear peaked out of a green gift bag. He took it out. Budd could remember when he and Marilyn picked it out. It was nice and soft and Budd knew that Brian would get it dirty in no time flat, but…now he never would. Budd began to cry and he hugged the bear tightly. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that they had to die while the fucker who did this was already out on bail. He threw the bear across the room and kicked at the boxes near him. He ignored the twinkling and sounds. He ignored the physical pain. His head was too hot with anger. Then he noticed a UPS box that had to be from Bill. He was right. He found the cow in pajamas along with a framed picture from Christmas 1958. His mom had taken the picture because it was just her three children. Bill was kneeling and smiling. Bella was smiling, too, as she held Budd who clutched a white baby cowboy hat. He had forgotten about that. It had come from Esteban and his mother had put it into a treasure box when it had become gray. The frame had a note attached. It was from Bill, but dated about a week ago when he sent the package. It said:

I'm sorry that I've acted like a jerk.

Marilyn had been right. He had been nice.

Budd once again found himself setting roses on a grave, but this time there were two and he also had baby's breath that he laid on Brian's. He had kept Marilyn's grave simple, but Brian's had a small lamb.

Marilyn…Marilyn would have liked that, he thought. The funeral was fairly full of friends who had known Marilyn from work, neighbors, Rachel; their babysitter and even Patti had shown up. Budd shook all their hands and listened patiently as they all said the same thing as he sat. It was all over now though and Budd stood, leaning upon his cane. Bill had been by his side until the service was a little over halfway through. Then someone whistled a tune and Bill had left. Budd looked at the four graves. Three had been in the last ten years while the other was showing its age. Carly was at his feet. She had barely left his side; he wondered what Bill had done. Budd heard footsteps and turned to see Bill.

"I didn't mean to leave you like that, but this is for you," he said, handing him a manila folder. Budd took it and opened it.

"It was everything I could dig up," explained Bill, "including his address."

Budd was looking at the face of the man who had taken everything from him.

"You want me to tag along?"

Budd glanced at the cast and cane.

"I'd like that, but no one else, not even Elle."

"Of course, it's a family thing."

For the first time in six days, Budd Albacea smiled.

"Please! I won't drink again! I swear. Stop!" screamed a man with stringy, greasy, brown hair who had to be several years younger than Budd. Bill held the man while Budd twisted the left arm until there was a pop. The man screamed again and Budd looked at him. Budd had already walked all over him in his cowboy boots, stomping in a number of places and broken his nose. The nose wasn't meant to get broken that quickly, but George Brown put up a fight before being sedated for travel. A spot in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the desert was much more suited for a prolonged killing.

"And that's what you would tell me, wouldn't it? Is that what you told the judge the last two times you were convicted of DUI?" asked Budd and he adopted a whiny voice for the next part, "I'll never drink again. I promise."

George's eyes were wide and scared like a rabbit's.

"That's horseshit and you know it. Time will pass. You'll forget and you'll go drinking. Then you'll drive…and then you'll destroy some other family!"

Budd had worked himself up and it was only alleviated by kicking George in the crotch. George let out a new howl of pain and Budd smiled. Then Budd had Bill tie him to the faded blue truck. His feet were bound to the trailer hitch. Bill handed Budd a large mallet and he proceeded to smash George's left arm before continuing to his chest. Then Bill handed Budd his Hanzo sword.

"Do you know what this is?" Budd asked George.

"A sword," he said, hoarsely.

"A sword?" asked Budd grinning and Bill shook his head like he had called an elephant a kangaroo.

"This," said Budd, holding it close for the man to see, "is a Hattori Hanzo sword, the sharpest sword in world."

George eyed Budd, questioningly.

"Why don't I give you a demonstration?"

Budd played with him, nicking and cutting here and there, but nothing serious, nothing major. The younger man just cried so that his tears were mixed with blood. Finally, after an hour, he cried, "Stop! Stop! Please stop!" To his surprise, Budd stopped. He glanced from George to the truck and then looked at Bill.

"You feel like a drive?"

Bill nodded.

"Well, get in then."

George had a confused expression on his face as Bill and Budd got in the truck. Budd had Bill drive as he hobbled onto the passenger side and lit a cigarette. He was trying his best not to use a cane today. It was really too soon for something this physical, but Budd wanted to stop him before he went out for New Year's Eve. George soon realized what they were up to when they started the vehicle without untying him. They drove for half an hour through the harsh desert terrain before stopping.

"Who are you?" asked George, softly as Budd stood over him with his Hanzo.

"You don't know me?"

George shook his head slightly. Dirt had engrained itself into every one of his sores. Budd was pleased.

"Then I'll tell you who I am. I was in the Rabbit that you smashed into last Saturday. I had to watch my wife and son die while I couldn't do nothing, not a damn, fucking thing and you sat in your truck, not feeling a thing because you were plastered out of your mind. Today, I'm your mother-fucking angel of death."

George looked like he would shit his pants and Budd laughed, sharing a look with his brother.

"You're just lucky that I can't fire my shotgun one-handed. Untie the fucker," Budd told Bill. Bill complied and George was thrown onto the desert ground. Budd raised his sword and brought it down on George's neck, but only a tiny bit, just enough so that George could feel the blood trickle. He waited a few minutes and cut a bit deeper. He drew out the cutting of George's neck for almost an hour and a half as blood finally dripped from his enemy's lips. Then Budd nodded, they disposed of the body and Budd became Sidewinder once again.

Budd and Bill watched the sunset on a rocky cliff. They had just come back from killing an Indian who had crossed Fang. Bill studied his younger brother and was a little disheartened to realize how much older the eleven-year-old looked than the last time he had seen him. He was taller and had lost his baby fat. He was also wearing clothes very similar to his own, he thought with a smile.

"Does it ever get better?" asked the boy.

"Does what get better?"

"Killing."

It wasn't a question Bill would have expected, but he had thought for a few years now that Budd actually thought too much. He thought for a little while and answered, "No, not really, I suppose that's for the best. One shouldn't enjoy killing too much."

"Then why do you keep doing it?"

Bill shrugged.

"I'm good at it and the pay's not too shabby either."

Budd's hazel eyes narrowed in thought, but Bill got the impression that the answer didn't completely satisfy him. Bill could still remember the six-year-old that he had taught to shoot and wondered where the time had gone.


	7. Psycho

Chapter Seven: Psycho

Bella looked at Budd and envied him. He was watching television without a care in the world while she was stuck with piles of homework. Being a senior sucked. Then there was a knock at the door. She opened it to see one of the last people she would have wanted, Paul.

"What do you want?" she asked, nastily.

"Is your mom home?" he asked.

"No," Bella lied.

"Bella, who's at the door?" called her mother.

"No one," she said, hoping her mother would take the hint. She didn't; a common problem with mothers. She came to see who it was for herself. She inhaled sharply when she did.

"Paul, what are you doing here?"

Paul dropped to his knees and clasped his hands.

"I know what I did was unforgivable, but it's been almost eight years. Please take me back. I'm so sorry, Betty."

Betty drew herself up to her full height and was going to tell him off, but he spoke again.

"Boy, Betty, you've just become prettier."

Oh no, thought Bella. Her mother had become more worried with her looks as she approached fifty. Betty looked at Paul and said, "Well, why don't you come in and we'll talk."

Paul came in and looked around to see what had changed. He noticed one difference immediately.

"Oh, you got yourself another one," he said, pointing at Budd. The television was still on, but Budd wasn't paying any attention to it. He was watching the stranger. Budd didn't like strangers.

"Yep, we call him Budd," said Betty, proudly, "and actually he's…"

Bella shook her head profusely at her mother behind Paul's back and Betty actually took the hint.

"He's real smart. His first grade teacher thought he was stupid, but it turned out he was bored."

Budd didn't add anything, merely looked uncomfortable. Bella went over to him.

"He looks like a cute kid," said Paul.

Betty smiled and asked, "Do you want to stay for dinner?" Bella frowned and grabbed Budd's hand.

"I think I should call Bill," said Bella later that night, helping her mother wash the dishes.

"Mija," said Betty, dropping the plate back into the soapy water, "There's no need to worry your brother. Perhaps Paul has genuinely changed. We'll just wait and see, but I don't want you calling your brother unless it's an emergency."

Bella gave her a look.

"Please don't give me that, not tonight. I just don't want you bothering your Bill over nothing. You know how busy he is. Promise me you won't mention Paul to him."

"No."

"Bella."

"Mama," said Budd, loudly from another part of the house.

"Bella."

"Fine, I promise that I won't call Bill."

"Good and finish up the dishes as well," she said, but didn't see the responding reaction because she turned to her youngest child. Budd was clutching a little, blue blanket and said, "I couldn't sleep."

"Come here," said Betty and Budd ran to her. She scooped him up, kissed him and started carrying him back to bed.

". Duérmete mi niño.

Duérmete solito.

Qué cuando te despiertes,

Te daré atolito.

Duérmete mi niño.

Duérmete mi sol.

Duérmete pedazo,

De mi corazón."

Bella found she couldn't stay mad as she listened to her mother singing Budd to sleep.

It was a mediocre Monday afternoon when Budd was coloring with crayons. Then Paul approached him.

"How about we go out for a burger?"

Budd looked at him, confused.

"Just you and me, what do you say?"

"Bill…Bill usually takes me," stammered Budd.

"But Bill's not here, he's not here a lot of the time. He hasn't been back since your mom and I got back together."

"Then Bella takes me."

"Bella's a senior in high school; she has other things to do than cart her kid brother around, come on. It's been three weeks and we really haven't gotten to know each other."

There was an edge to his voice that Budd didn't like and was a little scared of. Paul towered over Budd.

"Ok," he said, softly.

"That's more like it, just the guys off to eat."

Paul tried to hold Budd's hand as they neared the fake smile lady who was taking food orders. Budd wouldn't let him.

"What do you want?" asked Paul.

"Burger."

"But what else? Fries? Shake?"

"Ok."

Paul sighed. Budd wondered if he was getting mad. Bella had warned him not to get Paul mad.

Paul directed them to a seat once they got their food.

"So, you like school?"

"No."

"What's your favorite part?"

"When the bell rings and I get to leave."

"Oh."

They sat down and Budd unwrapped his burger.

"Yuck."

"What?"

"It has cheese on it."

"So?"

"I don't like cheese."

"Well, eat around it then."

Budd gave a little whine and Paul took the sandwich away from him. Then he picked everything off and gave it back.

"But I like pickles."

Paul exhaled and grabbed Budd's wrist.

"Don't be a crybaby. No one likes a crybaby. You're a big kid now. I want this to work with your mom, but you have to help. Got it?"

He squeezed and Budd felt pain.

"Ow."

"Got it?"

Budd nodded. Paul suddenly changed and let go of Budd's wrist.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I guess I just overreacted," said Paul and put the pickles back on the burger. Budd decided he would never be alone with Paul again.

Soon, it was Valentine's Day. It was a day that made school somewhat more bearable for Budd. The girls would give him cards and candy and attention. Then he would like some of the girls back. The year before he had gotten his first kiss from a six-year-old named Barbara. This year he had gotten three kisses from three different girls. He had a huge grin as he walked home from the bus stop. He stopped to get the mail, all of which was either for Bella or his mom, and continued to the house. His mom was at work, Bella was in her room and he had no interest in being near Paul. He heard the front door slam a few minutes after he had slammed the back one. He walked across the back yard that stretched into the desert. He had somehow never gotten lost, but he wished he would today. He had a bad feeling.

Bill walked into his Los Angeles apartment in time to hear the phone ring. He ran to answer it and succeeded before the caller gave up.

"Hello," he said and tried to recognize the person on the other end. He could only make out sobbing and heavy breathing. He wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Bill," said a voice that he hoped wasn't his sister's.

"Bella?"

"Paul came back," she said and Bill's heart stopped.

"I'll take care of it," he said, realizing the constant sobbing was his brother's.

"Uh, that's the thing; it's already been taken care of," said Bella.

"What?"

The sun was rimmed with orange and red, but most of the sky was a violet color. It was time that Budd got back. He had been exploring as usual, looking for bugs, lizards and snakes. He tried to collect snakes for Bella, but he was careful…fairly. She had taught him to stay away from the ones that rattle and the lizards that were fatter than his hand. They were monsters.

When he returned, he wished he had stayed out. His mom and Paul were fighting. Bella sat in the hallway so he joined her.

"How do you aksplain this?" Paul asked, holding up one of the red Valentines from the mail. Budd could smell the alcohol on his breath and his light brown hair was messed up.

"That's my private mail."

"But it's from him."

"I've told you, he's just a family friend."

"He seemed more than that when you were fucking him."

"Please, not in the front of the kids," said Betty, looking at Bella and Budd. Bella got up and made Budd follow her into her bedroom, but they could still hear everything.

"You mean the boy? I daresay Bella's old enough."

"Please supper's getting cold."

"We'll have supper when I fucking say so, bitch," said Paul and he slapped her across the face. Her children heard it and winced.

"Paul."

"Have them set the fucking table."

"Paul, you should leave. You're drunk."

"No, I'm not gonna leave. We're gonna be together forever."

"Ow," she said, in a way that Budd knew all too well. He got up from Bella's bed and went back to the hall. Paul had his mother by the wrist.

"Let go of me."

Bella came out as well and placed her hand protectively on Budd.

"No, not 'til you promise me."

"No, you're hurting me. I want you to leave."

"You ungrateful whore!"

Paul flung Betty against the wall and there was a sickening crunch as her head and shoulders connected. Budd heard the sound and saw his mother lying still on the floor, so quiet. Something inside Budd seemed to snap. He twisted out of Bella's grip and ran for his room.

"Whar's he going?" Paul asked. Bella shrugged.

"I don't know," she said, softly.

"Betty, wake up," he said to the body. Then Budd returned with a pistol. Paul was a bad man and Bill had told him what he did to bad men.

"Aww, that's cute. Whatcha plan on doing wid it?" Paul asked, looking at the seven-year-old with a gun, "What? Gonna shoot me?" He laughed. He crouched down so that he was face to face with Budd. Budd looked into Paul's hazel eyes.

"Now help me wake up your mom," he said, smiling.

It was the smile that did it. Budd pulled the trigger with Paul inches from the gun. The bullet smashed into Paul's skull. Blood hit Budd. It felt chunky and yucky. Then Paul jerked. It scared Budd and he pulled the trigger again. It him in the chest and Paul completely slumped to the floor in a pool of blood. Budd hiccupped and dropped the gun. What had he done? He began to cry, like the little kid that he was. Bella ran to him and hugged him tightly as he sobbed. It wasn't long before her tears matched his.

Bill waited for Bella's answer, anxiously. He found himself playing with the phone cord.

"He's dead."

Bill knew that couldn't be all of it or she wouldn't have that tone that he had never heard in her voice before.

"And?" he asked, almost not wanting the answer.

"Budd shot him," said Bella, scared.

"What?" he asked, disbelieving.

"Well, you taught him to shoot, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Well, he did," said Bella, doing her best to keep it together. Bill could still easily hear Budd in the background.

"Call Esteban, I'll come as soon as I can."

Bill parked the baby blue car and was met by Esteban in the yard. Esteban had quickly hugged him which surprised Bill a little. He could count on one hand the number of times that the older man had done that. Esteban looked at him with sad, brown eyes and inhaled on his cigarette in its fancy holder.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I hated Paul."

Esteban shook his head for several seconds.

"She did not tell you why Budd kill Paul?"

"No."

"Your brother kill Paul because Paul kill Betty."

"My mom?"

Esteban nodded and Bill's worst fears about Paul had been confirmed. He had failed her. He had failed his mom. Hadn't he promised that Paul wouldn't come back? He was supposed to be the protector of the family, but he hadn't been there. His job had been done by his little brother, a seven year old. He was mad at himself and he was ashamed to admit that he was mad at Budd for doing Bill's job.

"I'll get some food and come back," said Esteban and Bill faintly nodded. He hadn't realized his feet were moving, but he found himself at the front door.

"Bill," said Bella, "You're finally here."

She hugged him for over a minute before he stopped it.

"Where is he?"

Bella nodded and directed Bill to Budd's bedroom, formerly Bill's. Any anger or jealously that Bill had felt toward Budd swiftly drained away. Budd lay on the bed. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and he looked sick.

"Budd, Budd…Bill's here," said Bella. Budd made no sign of life. Bill looked at Bella.

"He hasn't spoken since…since it happened."

Bill sat down on the bed and Budd looked at him with his hazel eyes. Bill picked him up and hugged him, but Budd still didn't respond. Bill sighed and picked him up.

"You need to eat something," said Bill and he carried him to the kitchen. Bill sat him in a chair and checked his watch.

"Esteban should be back soon," he said and started fixing Budd a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He placed it on a plate in front of his brother and motioned for Bella to go into the living room. He followed soon after.

"Tell me everything after you called me," said Bill.

"I called Esteban and he had me call the police. They came and dusted and fingerprinted, did everything before letting me attempt to clean. I wasn't too successful as you noticed by the tarps. The police were here for three hours, but Budd wouldn't talk. They put Budd in my custody for the time being."

Bill nodded and asked, "Will there be a trial?"

"No, they took my word that Budd did it, but there'll be a custody hearing in two weeks."

Then Esteban showed up with semi-hot food.

The following Friday, Bill undid his tie, Bella took down her hair and Budd left the living room.

"We need to plan what to say to the judge. Although he should easily grant me custody," said Bill.

"No."

"No?"

"Do you know what happened the last three nights?"

Bill thought for a minute and replied, "We've had to sing Budd to sleep."

Bella shook her head.

"Budd's wet the bed. He hasn't wet the bed since he was four."

Bill was silent.

"You didn't even notice. Budd deserves better than that. He needs a real parent."

"I can't provide that?"

Bella shook her head.

"How can you provide that? You're always preparing to leave. I'm with him every day."

"But you're a senior in high school, what are you going to do when you're in college?"

"I'm eighteen. Beside, I don't want to go to college. I've hated the first thirteen; I doubt I'll like the next four any better."

They stood, locked in a verbal combat.

"I won't have you not going to college and mom wouldn't have either."

Bella pursed her lips and squinted her eyes. He had used the mom card.

"Fine, I'll take him with me and take classes while he's at school."

Bill opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. The silence was interrupted by the slamming of the back door.

"Budd!" they both said at the same time. They ran out the back door, but there was no sign of him.

"He must have gone around to the front," said Bella and they hurried in that direction.

"There he is," said Bill, spotting Budd halfway down the dusty drive. Budd carried a small red suitcase and his metal Jetsons lunch box that showed its age. He didn't stop even when they were right behind him.

"Budd, what are you doing?" asked Bella, softly gripping his shoulder. Budd shifted his weight from left to right and back again.

"I…I didn't want to be a problem," said Budd, in a croaky voice that hadn't been used in almost five days.

"Budd, you will never be a problem," said Bella, her arms around him, "but running away never solves anything, that's how mom got Bill."

"Hey, she told me that she'd never tell anyone else that," complained Bill.

"Well, she told me, wanted to make sure that I didn't end up the way she did."

Bill was hurt. Budd couldn't follow the conversation exactly so he just watched.

"I thought we were a pretty good family," said Bill.

"Three children by three different fathers? You have to admit that that's not normal."

"Still, she did the best she could."

"If she did the best she could," said Bella and her voice broke on the last, "then why she's dead?"

She started to cry and Bill hugged her.

"Bella, Bella, it's going to be okay."

"No, it's not. She's gone, she's really gone."

"But we'll never forget her," said Bill as a tear or two rolled down his cheek. Bella held Bill tightly, but then noticed Budd.

"Come over here."

Budd dropped the suitcase and lunch box and ran to them. The three of them had a group hug.

"Bella, you were right. Budd should live with you, but I hope that I'm never far behind."

Bella nodded and said, "The three of us, we'll always be together."

Bill hugged the younger two and smiled.

"Is this how you do it?" asked Budd as he aimed for the coke bottle. He shot and nicked a bottle two bottles over.

"Pretty much," said Bill, laughing, "But with better aim."

"Oh," said Budd and they practiced a little more. Bill shot everything he aimed for which impressed Budd, but Budd wasn't too bad for a six year old.

"You hungry?" asked Bill after twenty minutes.

"Yeah."

"Let's go get something," and they climbed into the Thunderbird. He drove until they reached a diner and then Budd opened up his wallet.

"Oh, damn."

"What?"

"I have less in it than I thought," said Bill, but then he noticed the restaurant sign, "I got an idea."

Budd looked at him, questioning.

"Play along, but let me do most of the talking," said Bill with a twinkle in his eye. Budd nodded and they went in.

An older woman with dark red hair done up in a ponytail and apron pockets bulging with condiments and extras of all sorts walked up to their table.

"Hi, I'm Angie, your waitress," she said with a smile and looked at the man and the boy, "Here for the father's day special?"

Budd looked at Bill, but Bill replied, "Yes, we are."

"Ok, the special is that you buy one entrée, then you get the other one free and what would you like to drink?"

"Coke," Budd answered.

"I'll have the same," said Bill and Angie left.

"But we're not…"

"We know that, but she doesn't so we get free food, that's the beauty of the con," explained Bill.

Budd nodded in comprehension and smiled. It sounded like fun, like a game. He couldn't wait for the waitress to come back. They ended up with extra fruit and bread to take home.

Budd held the roses at a distance as he peeked his head in.

"I see you."

Budd moved the flowers to his back as he entered.

"I wanted to make sure you weren't asleep."

"I guess I'll accept that," said Marilyn, pulling herself to a sitting position on the hospital bed. He kissed her and said, "I got you something."

"What? What are you hiding behind your back?"

Budd finally gave her what he had been hiding behind his back; six roses.

"One for every year…" she trailed off and tried to keep from crying.

"It's what the dad is supposed to give the new mom, isn't it?"

Marilyn nodded and composed herself slightly, "It's the hormones still."

Budd sat on the bed next to her and a nurse entered the room with an infant covered in a pink blanket. She was taken to the other woman who had dark hair.

"Her little girl beat Brian for first baby of the year," said Marilyn in a whisper.

Budd squinted and looked at the baby.

"Brian's cuter looking though," Budd said, laughing. Marilyn followed suit and said, "That's because he looks like his daddy."

She took hold of his right arm, but noticed the wince on Budd's face. She gave him a look so he rolled up his sleeve, revealing a white bandage.

"I just got it last night," said Budd and opened the bandage to show her a small wolf.

"For Brian, I love it. How's Mac doing?"

"He misses you tremendously…kept me up almost all night."

"I hope he gets along with Brian."

"I'm sure they will."

Then the nurse left and Marilyn came real close to Budd.

"Get me some real food."

"What? You get out of this place in six hours."

"I know, but I'm starving. Get me some Burger King or something…please."

"How can I say no to that?" asked Budd. He kissed once more and left, but he didn't leave the hospital before a second stop at the nursery. Sleeping on a small bed, three from the left, was his son. He still couldn't believe it. He was a dad. Brian was a mutual decision, but his middle name was left to almost the last minute when Marilyn came across it and thought it was cool. Budd agreed and the baby before him became Brian Wulfric Albacea. He took one last look and left to get Marilyn something to eat.

Bill was in his office when he heard B.B. laugh. He had never heard her laugh like that in all of her six months of life. It couldn't be Josephina and definitely not Elle. Elle was rather cold with the child. Bill got up and followed the sound to her nursery. B.B. smiled and laughed in the arms of her uncle, Budd.

"Budd."

Budd blew on her stomach one more time, eliciting giggles, and Budd put her rightside up again.

"Don't get excited. I only came to meet my niece, after all, it's Christmas…for what it's worth," said Budd, smiling at her. She returned it.

"Right."

"She's quite the cutie," said Budd, of the baby with curly blonde hair, "She looks like her mommy."

"Yes, she does," said Bill and Budd noticed the circles under his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping well and while that could be attributed to the baby, Budd didn't think so.

"But she has your eyes."

"Mom's eyes," Bill corrected and Budd could sort of remember that, but not too well. Budd looked at the baby a bit longer and asked, "How is Bea doing?"

"Still in a coma."

"Is it true that you sent Elle with one of your inventions to the hospital?"

Bill didn't look his brother in the eyes.

"I did."

"Ah, I was hoping that was one of the myths."

"But I looked at B.B. and I changed my mind."

"Oh, how noble of you then."

Bill sighed and held onto the crib.

"What does B.B. stand for? Bilius Beatrix?"

"No," said Bill, exasperated, "her full name is Beatrix Bella Kiddo."

"Oh," said Budd and B.B. yawned. Budd put her down to sleep.

"I think we need to talk," said Bill.

Bill called a number on his cell phone that he had never called before, but had been gotten by one of his sources.

"Hello," said a woman in heavily accented English.

"Is Ernie there?"

"Yes, but he's going to work."

"This is important," said Bill in his voice that very few could say no to.

There was a moment of silence as she got her husband.

"This is Ernie."

"When was the last time that you saw Budd?"

"Budd?"

"Yeah."

"Last night, when he dropped me off."

"What were you doing?"

"Uh, we shot some cans in the desert and before that, we played poker in my kitchen."

"That's all?"

"Yes, and the wife and I have papers. We're completely legal."

"You can cut the act, this is Bill."

"Bill? Budd's brother?"

"Yes, that's me. Now when was the last time that you saw Budd?"

"He dropped me off at home after we buried that chick."

"What chick?"

"She was blonde and a pain in the ass."

"You didn't happen to bury her under the name Paula Schultz by any chance?"

"Si."

"I need you to go Budd's trailer and check on him."

"But I have work."

"I will pay you for her services."

There was hesitation and then Ernie said, "Okay."

"Ok," said Bill and then in an off-handed way he said, "Why didn't Budd keep his sword?"

"What? His Hanzo sword?"

"Yeah, the one he pawned."

"Budd didn't pawn that sword. He loved that sword. He practiced everyday."

"What?"

"Yeah, never let me try it."

"I need you to go to Budd's trailer and I'll call Budd's cell, say in half an hour?"

"Ok," said Ernie and Bill closed the connection, not looking forward to the next call.


	8. Revenge

Chapter Eight: Revenge

Budd was sleeping off the horrors of work the previous night and the nightcap he had after when he was woken up. Someone was knocking on his trailer door. Budd opened it to reveal Bill. Bill was the last person that Budd wanted to see right now.

"Great day in the morning, brother Bill livin' up to his familia obligation.

"How ya doing, Budd?"

"Oh, you know my life, Bill, just a mad rush of wild parties and wealthy women."

They looked at each other.

"What'd ya wanna talk about?" asked Budd, breaking the silence.

"Are you not going to invite me in?" asked Bill.

"No."

"May I ask why not?"

"It stinks in there, that's why. Now what's so important it requires a reunion?"

Bill looked pained at what he was about to say.

"You were right. You were right about Bea."

Budd nodded. He wasn't surprised.

"Give me a minute," said Budd, but he didn't wait for the answer. He just took off for inside. Bill tried to wait patiently, but he disliked the heat more and more as he got older. Budd finally came back with jeans and a wife beater on with a bottle of booze in one hand.

"When did she wake up?" asked Budd and Bill began his tale, as much as he had found out from sources. Time passed and the sun pressed harder on the figures below.

"You tellin' me she cut her way through eighty-eight bodyguards before she got to O-Ren?"

"Nah, there wasn't really eighty-eight of them. They just called themselves 'The Crazy 88.'"

"How come?"

Bill laughed.

"I don't know. I guess they thought it sounded cool. (Budd let himself laugh.) Anyhow, they all fell under her Hanzo sword."

Bill definitely had Budd's attention now. He had perked up at mention of her Hanzo.

"She got a Hanzo sword?"

Bill nodded and said, "He made one for her."

Budd squinted his eyes, recalling an event from more than twenty years ago.

"Didn't he swear a blood oath to never make another sword?"

Bill was at a loss.

"It would appear he has broken it."

Budd processed the information and said, "Them Japs sure know how to carry a grudge, don't they? (He laughed again.) Or maybe… you just tend to bring that out in people?"

Budd was pleased at the reaction that he got from his brother. Bill seemed to be regrouping.

"I know this is a ridiculous question before I ask it, but you haven't, by any chance, kept up with your…swordplay?"

"I, uh… I pawned that years ago," said Budd with a completely straight face.

"You hocked a Hattori Hanzo sword?"

"Yep."

"It was priceless."

Budd thought Bill's face was priceless.

"Well, not in El Paso, it ain't. In El Paso, I got me 250 dollars for it."

Budd saw his chance to wrap things up.

"I'm a bouncer in a titty bar, Bill. If she wants to fight with me, all she's got to do is come down to the club and start some shit and we'll be in a fight."

Budd had to admit that he liked to see the concern on Bill's face. Bill must still have some brotherly feelings for him after all.

"Budd, you need to listen to me. I know we haven't spoken in some time and the last time we spoke wasn't the most pleasant."

They were both thinking of the day Budd had held B.B. for the first and last time.

"But you've got to get over being mad at me, and start becoming afraid of Bea because she is coming, and she is coming to kill you and unless you accept my assistance, I have no doubt she will succeed."

Budd was touched by the speech, but dismayed by Bill's trying to capitalize on it.

"Can't we forget the past and look at the bright side of all this?"

Budd laughed and asked, "And what would that happy side be?"

"She's brought the boys back together."

Budd had to laugh.

"I appreciate the concern on your face, but there's a difference 'tween the boys, time can't erase. I don't dodge guilt and I don't Jew out of paying my comeuppance. That woman deserves her revenge and…we deserve to die, but then again, so does she so I guess we'll just see. Won't we?"

Budd smiled. Bill looked both infuriated and sad.

"Budd…Budd, you know I love you," said Bill with difficulty.

"Yep," said Budd, not looking at him. Bill sighed and went to his car. He opened the door, got in and was going to shut it when Budd said, "Bill."

"Yes, Budd."

"Bill…," started Budd, but there was too much to say and he wasn't sure how to start, "Say hi to B.B. for me."

Budd approached the car, bit his lip and took a swig from the bottle instead of saying anything more.

"Of course," said Bill, waiting for more, but it didn't come. He shut the door and drove off, trying to see his brother in the rearview mirror as long as possible. He feared it would be the last time he saw him alive.

Budd watched the car until it was an indeterminate dot on the horizon. Then he went back inside.

Marilyn held Budd's hand as they entered the apartment in New York. Budd really didn't want to be here, but Marilyn had thought it was a good. Also, Bill had been nagging him to pick up his shit. Bill had really changed the place in the more than five years since Budd had seen it last. Bill hadn't changed Budd's room though. It was exactly the same as when Budd had left for rehab. Marilyn flopped down on the bed and it jiggled.

"Water bed," she commented with a raised eyebrow. Budd chuckled slightly and shrugged. Then he set to going through his stuff.

"Shit, shit, shit…keep, shit, shit, shit," said Budd, throwing his stuff around. They were material shit that just didn't really matter. He had Marilyn, he was happy.

"He can burn the rest for all I care," said Budd, after having collected a box worth. Marilyn turned away from the window and took his hand again.

"You have to look," she said and squeezed in a reassuring way. Budd nodded, grabbed the box and headed for the door. Bella's room was right next door, but it took an eternity. He turned the knob and the door swung open. He let out the breath that he hadn't realized that he had been holding. He felt Marilyn wrap her arms around him and was glad. The room was bare, completely bare. It was as if his brother had stripped everything that was Bella's, but couldn't redo the room. He walked in with Marilyn at his side and glanced around. It may have been empty, but it was still full of memories; pillow fights in the middle of the night, alcohol experiments and the hooker that she hired the one time. He tried to smile, but it didn't work. Marilyn hugged him and he hugged back.

"Let's go," said Budd and she hugged him again.

Budd dumped the box on the floor of their hotel room and sat on the bed. Marilyn put her hands on Budd's knee and said, "The observation deck at the World Trade Center closes in an hour."

Budd got that look in his eyes and pulled Marilyn onto bed with him.

"Budd," said Marilyn, drawing his name out.

"There's plenty of tomorrow for sightseeing."

"Budd," started Marilyn, but Budd put his hand down her pants, "Or we can see stuff later."

Then she unzipped her pants.

Some time later, Marilyn lay with Budd's arms around her.

"Did Bill get back to you about Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah, he's in Washington. He can't make it."

"We could go there."

"He's on business."

"Oh."

"Housekeeping," cried a voice, followed by a knock. Budd tried to ask her to go away, but she didn't apparently hear him. He heard the beep of the card and the handle being turned. Budd reached down for the sheet, covering himself and Marilyn grabbed half for herself. The maid caught the action though because she immediately cast her eyes down.

"I'm sorry, sorry. I'll come back later," she said, over the wail of a baby in the hallway, and quickly left. Budd didn't relax until the door was shut. He didn't like being caught in an intimate moment like that. Then he noticed that Marilyn was still staring at the door and he knew it wasn't because she wanted the sheets changed. He hugged her from the back and massaged her shoulders. She relaxed, but he kissed her back for extra measure.

"What if we aren't supposed to have a baby?"

Budd let go of her and she turned to face him.

"Don't talk like that," said Budd.

"But we've been trying for so long."

"You heard what the doctor said. It might take a bit longer for us."

He caressed her cheek and gave her a little smile. She managed a weak smile.

"We could try again," suggested Budd. Marilyn smiled a real smile and gently shoved him. Budd laughed.

"You are the horniest man I know. How did you survive without me?"

"One night stands and porno mags," replied Budd with a twinkle in his eye. Marilyn looked all shocked and offended, but she couldn't keep it up. She started laughing and Budd followed. Then Marilyn pushed Budd flat on the bed and started kissing him.

Bella spun the barrel of the gun and snapped it back into place. Bill sat on a chair, watching her. He had just gotten in a little while ago from a job in New York.

"Where's Budd?" asked Bill as Bella got out her check book to balance.

"Sleeping, I assume."

"Sleeping? It's 3 pm."

"But he just got in four hours ago."

"Bella…Bella, don't let him get away with that shit. He shouldn't be pulling this for another year or two."

Bella plunked the pen on the table, agitated. She looked at Bill and her annoyance was plain to see.

"He would just sneak out anyway. Would you rather I handcuff him to the bed?"

"No."

"Well, then."

Bella returned to her figures and Bill took a beer from the fridge.

"Sometimes, I worry about that boy."

"You should," said Bella, without looking up. Bill sighed.

"What is it you want? What does he need?"

Bella stopped her task.

"I don't know, that's the problem."

Bill took the cap off and took a swig.

"You have Esteban to call on as well."

"I know," said Bella, returning to her task.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just tired," said Bella and then she noticed Bill's look, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't snap at you."

"Tell you what, why don't the three of us go down to Cancun, or some resort where they wait on you, hand and foot?"

"I'd like that."

"Good, consider it done."

Bella went back to the check book and Bill continued to drink while relaxing. Bill glanced around the kitchen, looking at things when a particular photo caught his eye. It was of Betty, the same year that she died. Bill bowed his head at the memory of his mother, but there was something that had always troubled him.

"What set Paul off?"

"What?" asked Bella, actually dropping her pen.

"We both know that Paul was cruel and violent, but he always got set off some way. There was some way he got provoked. What caused him to attack mom those two times?"

Bella looked as though she would rather take an algebra test.

"Come on, Bella, what is it?"

"It's just…I've never told anyone, especially not Budd."

"This involves Budd?"

"In a way, yes…or at least, I thought it did."

"Just tell me."

Bella took a deep breath and blurted, "Mom was sleeping with someone other than Paul." She immediately put a hand to her lips as though she had said too much. Bill was analyzing previous memories and recollections, trying to put the puzzle together. Then it clicked.

"She was sleeping with Esteban."

Bella nodded.

"What happened the second time?"

"Paul found the valentine that Esteban sent mom. He jumped easily to the wrong conclusion."

Bill took in the truth and said, "Now I know why Esteban helped mom so much through her pregnancy and was gone when I came back."

"Yep, don't tell Budd. I think he's better off not knowing."

"I think you're probably right," agreed Bill.

On the other side of the wall, on the verge of going in, was Budd. He had woken up at the sound of Bill's car, but stopped at the mention of his name. He had heard everything. He wasn't sure what to do so he went back to bed. They never got around to the Cancun trip.

Fang sat at the head of the table with Bill, Bella and Budd at the foot.

"Eat!" commanded Fang.

Most of his guests did that, but three noticeably did not. This went on for five minutes until Fang spoke up.

"Why aren't you eating my food?"

"There's a simple explanation to that really," started Bill, but he was interrupted …by Fang falling face first in his pasta. The senior members looked confused, but quickly followed suit until only five at the table remained. The three siblings looked at the other two with interest. The first to speak was Fang's newest acquisition. He was a boy, barely legal, who was a local.

"I noticed you weren't eating, can't be too careful."

"I followed the kid's lead," explained the forty-something Jew from New York.

"I guess it's time for a proper introduction," said Bill, "My name's Bill. This is Budd, the best assassin in the world…aside from me and Bella who's a close second. We're going to be in charge of Fang's business now."

"Why shouldn't you have a taste of your own medicine?" asked the cocky kid.

"Because I only ask for twenty percent."

"Ten percent lower than Fang?" clarified the middle-aged man.

"Right."

The two survivors looked at each other and then at Bill.

"You have yourself a deal," said the teenager and Bill shook both of their hands.

"Well, here's to our new venture," said Bill with a chuckle and raised a glass. They all toasted, but Budd could see past the fake warmth in Bill's eyes. Bill was already coming up with a plan to get rid of the two men.

Budd kissed the nineteen year old under him and she moaned in pleasure. He was going to say her name, but couldn't remember what it was. The green eyed vixen had been at a party two hours before and was very ready and willing, complete with apartment. They finished and slumped to the bed. Brown hair covered half her face as she said, "You can let yourself out." Then she turned away from him and closed her eyes. Budd dressed and exited into a slightly chilly, California night. The dog star shone brightly over him. He jumped on his brand new Harley-Davidson and sped off. His dark hair flew behind him, reaching well past his shoulder blades. Esteban had voiced his disapproval the last time he visited. Esteban, he had noticed a coldness coming from Budd. Budd had been even more surly than normal, but he still remembered the conversation he had overheard between Bill and Bella and he had had selective hearing. He didn't understand why Esteban hadn't treated him more like a son. It wasn't fair. He had come to realize that his home life was far from ideal and he was going to hold Esteban accountable. Yes, that was exactly what he was going to do. Budd turned the bike around with a horrible noise and revved the engine for Mexico.

The sun shone pale on the horizon as Budd reached Esteban's place. The sky was a pale grey which meant Esteban had just gone to bed an hour or so ago. Budd pounded on the door anyway. No answer. He pounded louder.

"Esteban!"

"Esteban."

He screamed until he heard movement and the door open. It was Esteban himself, Budd had expected one of his lackeys.

"What is it, Budd?"

"I know who you are," said Budd, his resolve beginning to leave him.

"Oh, who am I? Other than one you have awakened very early in the morning?"

"You're my father."

Esteban's gaze was very sad and he said, softly, "I wish I were."

"No, you slept with my mother."

"Yes, I did, but I am not your father."

"Why? Why can't you just admit it?"

Esteban seemed almost afraid in Budd's eyes and that seemed to egg him on. He grabbed onto Esteban's shirt as he used to when he was smaller. Esteban shook him off.

"I am not your father. I am not and you are not my son, Budd."

Anger flashed in Budd's eyes. It wasn't the answer he was looking for. He slapped Esteban across the face. It didn't hurt that much physically, but it hurt inside. Never had Budd laid a finger on Esteban before. Esteban inhaled deeply, trying to relax. Then he punched the younger man in the face.

Budd backed off, his eye hurt badly. He tried to blink and couldn't after the second attempt. It had already swelled shut. Esteban backed away, looking slightly horrified at what he had done. Then he looked back inside. Someone else was coming. It was Bill, wearing only pants with no shoes. He looked at Esteban, who was panting and the expression on his face was awful. Then he looked at his brother, full of temper. It was a temper Bill knew too well.

"Budd, Budd, what are you doing?"

"You never told me."

"Told you what?"

"Esteban's my father."

"No, he's not."

"Don't fuck with me, Bill. I know he is."

"No, he isn't," said Bill, in his best voice to discourage further questioning. It didn't work.

"Then tell me who he is."

"It doesn't matter. He's dead now… It was Paul. You killed your own father, Budd."

"No," said Budd and he shook his head.

"It is true," said Esteban with sad, brown eyes. Budd continued to shake his head.

"No, you're lying. You must be."

Bill held out his hand to clasp Budd's shoulder, but Budd wouldn't have it. He threw the hand off and it was with such force that Bill had to act. There was no reasoning with Budd. There was nothing Bill could do, but catch Budd off guard and punch his little brother in the jaw. Budd fell right where Bill was counting on. He fell against one of the ornamental rocks, knocking him out. Tears came to Bill's eyes and Esteban comforted him.

"Here, I'll help you take him to your car," he offered and they both carried the teenager to the passenger side of Bill's car. Esteban watched Budd sleep as Bill dressed and got his things. Afterwards, Esteban sighed and kissed Budd on the forehead. When he turned to Bill, there were tears in his eyes.

"I loved him as if he was my own son, but I can't do this again."

Bill shook his head.

"It won't happen again, just a stupid teenage thing."

Esteban gave him a look.

"No, it was more than that. He's too dangerous."

"How can you say that?"

"He's too dangerous. He has too much of his father in him and that scares me."

"But.."

"No, I'm done. It pains me, but Budd is not welcome at my hacienda anymore."

Bill opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. The pain it was causing his mentor was evident. A few tears splashed down the older man's brown skin. Esteban wiped them away with the back of his hands.

"I hope you're right. I hope his temper is merely a phrase, but God help the person who receives it."

Bill nodded and drove away.

Budd drove to his trailer from his hour or so of work. It was such a productive day, too. His boss had made him feel like a fucking idiot and pretty much fired him, but not before he had to clean shit off the floor of the women's restroom. He parked on the littered dirt and looked at the shitty trailer he slept in. Things would get better. They had to and he had been forming a plan ever since Bill had visited. With a sigh, he turned the car off, removed the key and went inside. He had a feeling that he hadn't had in several years. He had the feeling that someone was watching him. His suspicions were confirmed awhile later as he listened to the Man in Black. He heard dogs. His first instinct was to look which he did, but he half-expected to see Carly when he did. Sometimes he forgot that she had died the year before. There was something else out there though.

Bea was there.

He didn't know how he knew, but he did. The day had finally come. He had always known Bea would wake up and she would come after him so he had years to ponder his role. For one thing, he hadn't fulfilled his promise to her. He hadn't killed her, but he had failed when she was expecting. She was no longer in that condition, but how could he take her away from B.B. without their ever meeting?

He had had to come up with a way of killing her that wouldn't leave him with that sour feeling in his stomach. It had taken awhile, but he figured it out. For now, he clutched the old shotgun, spat occasionally and waited. He didn't have to wait long. Apparently, years spent in a coma had done nothing for Bea's patience. Her feet fell on the steps and her hand opened the door. Boom! Bea was on the ground with twin holes in her chest and Budd above her with smoking barrels. He recognized the familiar spitfire in her eyes and smiled inwardly.

"Now that gentled you down some, didn't it? Ain't nobody a badass a double dose of rocksalt dug deep in her tits."

He threw the empty cartridges away and leaned close to the younger woman and took a glance at her sword. Then he kicked it out of her reach and allowed himself a smile. His friendship with Bea was complicated and possibly at an end. He wasn't going to let his mixed emotions show though. He reloaded the gun.

"Not having…tits…as fine or as big as yours, I can't even imagine how bad that shit must sting."

Budd continued to talk as he found all her little weapons. She had tried to come prepared.

"Yet I don't want to, neither," said Budd grinning at her like it was just another almost genial talk between the two. Bea knew better. She spat in his face, crimson, and it shook him from his mood. He spat chew back at her.

"I win," he said, enjoying her disgusted look. Then he rolled her over and injected her with tranq he had left over. He left her that way as he headed back inside to grab a beer, spitcan and cellphone. It was time to put his other plan into action. He dialed a number that he would have preferred not to and waited for the bitch to answer.

"Bill," she responded, not even bothering to check caller id.

"Wrong brother, ya hateful bitch," said Budd, happy to throw Elle off guard.

"Budd."

"Bingo."

"And to what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"

"I just caught me the cowgirl ain't never been caught," he said, looking over the blonde that should have been fucking his brother rather than the blonde on the phone.

"Did you kill her?"

"Well, not yet, I ain't. I shot her full of rock salt. She's so gentle right now. I could perform her coup de grace with a rock," he said, admiring her Hanzo sword, "Anywhoo…Guess what I'm holdin' in my hand right now?"

"What?"

"A brand spankin' new Hattori Hanzo sword and I'm here to tell ya, Elle, that's what I call sharp."

"How much?"

"Oh, that's hard to say, bein' that it's…priceless and all."

"What's the terms?"

"You get your bony ass down here first thing in the morning with a million dollars in folding cash and I'll give you the greatest sword ever made by a man. Now, how do you like the sound of that?"

"Sounds like we got a deal. One condition."

"What?"

"She must suffer to her last breath."

"Well…That, Elle darlin'…I can pretty much damn well guarantee."

"Then I'll see you in the mornin', millionaire."

"All right."

Budd hung up and put the phone in his back pocket. Bea would suffer to her last breath. Either it would be from lack of oxygen or the guilt of killing who, she had once admitted to Budd, was the only man she had ever loved. He wiped the chew off her face and picked her up. He carried her to the back of his truck where he doublechecked that she had a knife hidden in her boot. Budd bound her hands and feet and got everything ready before driving off. He had a stop to make before Ernie's.

"Wakey, Wakey. Eggs and Bakey," said Budd as Bea woke up. One of the few things he had gotten from Marilyn that didn't make him cry. He undid the truck back and pulled her out. It wasn't so gentle either. He watched her watch him with absolute hatred, but it made what he was going to do easier. Dirt flying out of a grave was all he could see of Ernie. The former occupant had halfway fallen out of her rotting casket.

"I'm done! Get me outta this hole! "Ernie screamed.

"Good," said Budd and he smiled at Bea before helping Ernie. He grabbed his friend out of the hole and tried to brush the cemetery filth off him. Ernie immediately headed for the chips while Budd threw the ladder in the back of the truck. He joined Ernie who crunched as he gave Bea a closer inspection.

"Whoa, look at those eyes. This bitch is furious," said the shorter man as if he were looking at a lion in a zoo.

"What did I tell ya? Is she the cutest little blond pussy you ever saw? Or…is she the cutest little blond pussy you ever saw?" asked Budd, not because it was his opinion but because he knew how much she hated that word, only Bill could get away with it or cunt.

"I seen better," said his friend, hard to please.

"You got anything to say?" asked Budd to Bea.

She shook her head to the men's amusement.

"White women call this "the silent treatment," explained Ernie, "and we let them think we don't like it."

Ernie laughed and Budd smiled at his friend who seemed to find humor in just about everything.

"You grab the feet, I'll grab the head," said the former assassin. He didn't trust Ernie not to do something, like drop her. Bea had other ideas anyway, it seemed. Budd knew that she had figured out his plan for her. She started to struggle.

"Hey. Hey Hey! Wiggle worm, you see this?" asked Budd, getting out a spray can, "You see it, don't ya? That's a can of Mace. Mm-hmm."

There was an unspoken exchange between the two who used to be so close. She was looking for a way out of her predicament. She wanted a fair fight between swords and Budd wasn't having any of it.

" No. You're goin' underneath the ground tonight and…that's all there is to it. I wanna bury ya. I was gonna bury ya with this," said Budd, holding up a flashlight and shining it in her eyes for extra measure," but if you're gonna act like a horse's ass, I'm gonna spray this whole goddamn can right in your eyeballs! I'll burn'em right outta your fuckin' head. Then you're gonna be blind and burnin' and buried alive. Now, what's it gonna be, sister?"

He was acting like an ass, but if he stopped acting awful to her, he could feel the tears forming. His word choice began to betray him when he called her sister. She should have been by law and what he was doing didn't change what she felt like to him in his heart. Bea picked the flashlight.

"That's a wise decision," agreed Budd and they put her in the casket. He made sure she had the light and took one last look before…before the deed.

"This is for breakin' my brother's heart," said Budd, reminding her of his promise. He thought he saw a flicker of understanding in her blue eyes, but it might have only been his imagination. The tears were collecting in his eyes and he shut the lid before she could see them.

The two of them pounded nail after nail into the coffin. He tried to separate his emotions but Budd had never been very good at that so a stray tear or two fell as his hammer did. They threw the box in the ground and pitched the dirt back in. As time wore on, Budd's tears were flowing freely, but Ernie said nothing. Ernie patted the mound when they ran out of dirt while Budd went to the truck. As he had done three other times, he laid a rose on Bea's grave. One of them wasn't going to last the night and he couldn't honestly say which one he was rooting for. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, leaving raccoon eyes, put his hat back on and said, "Yeah, that about does it." Then he returned to the cab where Ernie waited.


	9. A Sadistic Blonde

Huge thank you to stayhooper and Queen of Hellions for their help. Wow, chapter 5 was the longest! Also, Disney, please don't sue.

Chapter Nine: A Sadistic Blonde

"Go git it, boy! Git it!" screamed Budd. The white streak came back promptly with the plastic golf ball and jumped on Budd who lay in a lounge chair with a bottle of Schnapps. He scratched the dog's ears and threw the ball again. His reddened forehead gave away how long he had spent the day as such.

"Who left those doors open?" asked an annoyed voice to herself, then she noticed the lounge chair with her husband, "What time did you get home, Budd?"

"Oh, five, six hours ago, I'd guess."

She sighed and made her way over to him with Mac on her heels. She noticed the ball in his mouth and couldn't help but smile.

"Been playing fetch?"

He gave her a look and said, "Eh, he found that on his own."

"What am I going to do with you? You got fired again, didn't you?"

"The fag kept hitting on me. What was I supposed to do?"

Marilyn grabbed a lounge chair and sat down, roughly. This wasn't a good sign, he thought.

"This happens every time!"

"Not every time, last time I, uh, accidentally-like, hit that old guy for butting in line."

"Honey, it's time we admit that you're not a people person and you never will be," said Marilyn, who leaned over and clutched his armrest, "Why don't you retire in a way? You could stay home and we'll manage on my salary."

"No."

"We might actually save money, on gas and new work outfits."

"No, I won't be living off you, like some sort of parasite. I pull my own weight."

"Don't do this."

"Do what?"

"'I'm a man so I have to bring home the bacon and provide for my family.' It's 1984, you're not any less of a man. You're everything to me," she said, leaning close to him.

"No," said Budd, turning away from her towards the lawn gnome along the property line, "It's…it's not right."

Marilyn got up and kicked his chair. It barely moved.

"What about when we have kids? You could stay home with them and we wouldn't need daycare or a babysitter."

"I thought we agreed that we weren't ready, that kids were a long time from now."

"Well..yeah, I don't want one now, but eventually…and it would work out better if you weren't getting fired every month."

Budd messed with the armrest and made the plastic woven chair fly all the way down. Then he turned onto his belly and closed his eyes.

"No, I'll start looking again tomorrow."

Marilyn made her upset sound and he knew that she was forming her palms into fists, bouncing left to right on her feet. She made the sound again and he heard the patio door slam. He sighed and opened his eyes. Mac stared up at him and barked.

"Not you, too."

He barked again and Budd shook his head. He would try and make it up somehow later.

Budd never slept well and that night was no exception. In fact, it was worse. He half-expected to wake up to find Bea at the foot of his bed with his own shotgun aimed between his eyes. It didn't matter. He recognized Elle's vehicle barely after daybreak. He dressed and let her in.

"So, that's what they call a Texas funeral?" she asked shortly thereafter.

"Yep."

Budd began fixing his usual breakfast as Elle pulled out her notebook and pen. She didn't used to be so fond of them, but he had noticed that their use had increased since Beatrix had become a Viper.

"I have to give it to ya, Budd. That's a pretty fucked up way to die. What's the name on the grave she's buried under?"

Budd put some ice in the blender.

"Paula," said Budd, putting in more ice, "Schultz."

"Can I look at the sword?" she asked, putting away her accessories.

"That's my money right there in that red bag, isn't it?" Budd asked, pointing.

"It sure is."

"Well then, it's your sword now," said Budd, looking forward to drinks and her leaving so he could pack. He dumped Schnapps in the blender and pressed the button. Then Elle said something so he stopped it.

"What's that you said?"

"So this is a Hattori Hanzo sword?"

"That's a Hanzo sword, all right."

"Bill tells me you once had one of these of your own."

"Yeah, once," said Budd as he got glasses, a little surprised that Bill had bitched about it to her.

"Yeah? How does this one compare to that?"

Budd pondered how to respond so he poured the drink instead. How to even answer that?

"If you're gonna compare a Hanzo sword, you compare it to every other sword ever made, wasn't made, by Hattori Hanzo," said Budd, sloppily pouring the drinks. He had to play it cool and not slip up, but Elle got on his worst nerves.

"Here you go. Wrap your lips around that," said he said, handing her the drink. He sat down and pulled the red suitcase over so he could put his leg on it. It was the only thing that made this whole thing worth it.

"So…which "R" are you filled with?" he asked, trying to pass the time.

"What?" she asked, he caught her off guard and that made him happy.

"They say the number one killer of old people is retirement. People got a job to do, they tend to live a little bit longer so they can do it. I've always figured that warriors and their enemies share the same relationship. So now that you're not gonna have to face your enemy no more on the battlefield which 'R' ya filled with? Relief or regret?"

"A little bit of both."

"Horseshit."

"I'm sure you do feel a little bit of both, but I know damn well that you feel one more than you feel the other and the question was: Which one is it?"

"Regret."

"You know, you gotta hand it to the ol' girl. I never saw anybody buffalo Bill the way she buffaloed Bill. Bill thought she was so damn smart and I tried to tell him…she was just smart for a blond," said Budd, knowing Elle would take it as an insult to her as well. He'd double check the money and find some polite or not so polite way of making her leave. He took the suitcase to the kitchen table, set it down and sat in front of it. Budd undid the zippers to reveal all the money. It looked like it was really there, the entire amount. He picked up a stack and flipped through. Then he laughed. This was his ticket out. Away from his shitty trailer, away from his shitty job, away from everything and he did it without having to involve Bill.

"Thanks a bunch."

Elle waved her glass in a sort of salute and crunched on her ice. Budd began taking out all money, but in the center was a snake and it looked poisonous. He tried to think what Bella would have told him to do, but the snake struck first. His face was on fire. He couldn't think. He jumped off the chair and pushed the suitcase away, but there was no use. Fire began to spread from his face. The world began to spin. He grabbed at the closest thing to him and the shelves gave way. He caught his footing and sight of the faucet. The fire wouldn't stop. Then he couldn't feel his legs. Budd fell to his knees which promptly buckled. He was flat on his back on linoleum. He groaned. He was in pain, he couldn't feel his legs and Elle was grinning over him like a fucking bitch.

"I'm sorry, Budd. That was rude of me, wasn't it? Budd, I'd like to introduce my friend, the Black Mamba. Black Mamba, this is Budd. You know, before I picked that little fella up, I looked him up on the internet. Fascinating creature, the black mamba. Listen to this: In Africa, the saying goes, 'In the bush, an elephant can kill you, a leopard can kill you and a black mamba can kill you, but only with the mamba, and this has been true in Africa since the dawn of time, is death sure. Hence its hand, 'Death Incarnate.' Pretty cool, huh?"

Budd realized with a shock that he couldn't move. He was stuck listening to her gloating speech, but the physical pain was gone. He couldn't feel any of it anymore.

"Its neurotoxic venom is one of nature's most effective poisons, acting on the nervous system, causing paralysis."

Everything was getting blurry to Budd, which improved Elle's appearance.

"The venom of a black mamba can kill a human being in four hours if, say, bitten on the ankle or thumb. However, a bite to the face or torso can bring death from paralysis within 20 minutes. Now you should listen to this," continued Elle.

Suddenly, all was black to Budd. He couldn't see a thing and he began to think that he was actually going to die.

" 'cause this concerns you. The amount of venom that can be delivered from a single bite can be gargantuan. You know, I've always liked that word gargantuan. I so rarely have the opportunity to use it in a sentence."

Her words drifted in and out of his hearing, sound replaced by a void that only his inner monologue could fill. He was going to die in his shitty trailer on the linoleum and killed by Elle, of all people. It wasn't supposed to be like this, not after all his other close calls, but what could he do? Budd tried to think and Marilyn's voice filled his head.

"…Hollowed be Thine name, Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done."

I've never been a praying man, but God, if you exist, could you help me out please?

"If not treated quickly with antivenom, ten to fifteen milligrams can be fatal to human beings. However, the black mamba can deliver as much as 100 to 400 milligrams of venom from a single bite. Now, in these last agonizing…"

Budd couldn't hear anymore of Elle's blathering, but instead of the usual horribleness that followed his other near death experiences, this was different. The sadness was replaced by light and he remembered every good thing that had ever happened to him.

". Duérmete mi niño.

Duérmete solito."

"Stay awake, don't close your eyes."

"I love you, Budd, mi hermanito."

"Want to get a burger with you brother?"

"I don't wanna talk anymore."

"I now pronounce you, Man and Wife."

"Dada!"

"…and a satisfied mind."

It grew lighter and whiter and he followed until he could make out a scene from his dreams. A lush oasis, like nothing he'd seen in life, with green leaves and huge flowers and water all over.

"Daddy!" screamed Brian, a little bit older than when he died, but Budd would have recognized him anywhere, "Here!"

Marilyn stood beside him and smiled at her husband, "Come home, Budd."

Budd had no tears, he smiled the biggest smile that he had ever smiled and ran to them. He ran and picked Brian up before hugging Marilyn. He kissed her lips, expecting something to go wrong or her to disappear, but she didn't. Marilyn kissed him and took his hand.

"Come on, we're going home," she said and led him into a new life.

Bill and Budd entered Bill's office, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Christmas tunes played faintly from the stereo and B.B. snored slightly on the monitor.

"She's going to wake up and you're going to get bit."

"We don't know that. She may remain in a coma for thirty years, she may die tomorrow."

"You of all people should know Bea better than that. Didn't you call her your second best assassin, 'Death Incarnate'? She doesn't give up. This is going to be your worst mistake ever."

"Don't bring up mistakes, Budd. Yours can't compare. Yours have killed those near and dear as well."

"You still blame me for Bella's death!"

"You were with her, you could have stopped her!" yelled Bill louder. Then they heard the snoring stop. Both didn't move for fear of her waking up, but it resumed.

"Stop her? We were both drunk and she was naive. She didn't realize what she was getting into, but she was also just as stubborn as we are. I could have stopped her about as easy as finding a dolphin in the desert."

"You were her brother. I wasn't there, but you were."

"Do you know who first gave me crack?"

Bill gave him a blank look.

"Of course you don't, it was Bella."

Bill continued to just look at him and at least ten seconds sent by before he said, "You're lying."

"Why would I lie? That's your job along with never being there."

"How dare you in my house!"

"Well, you're never at my house."

"It stinks in there."

"Well, not my fault, the job doesn't pay well."

"What are you doing now? Titty bar security? Car dealership?"

Bill laughed at Budd's hurt face.

"Car wash."

"You're aware that you could always come back into the group."

"No!" said Budd, more forcefully than he meant to, "No, I'm living clean again."

"What does that make me? Evil?"

"Yes, in a matter of speaking."

"Let me get this straight: as it happens, you of all people, you are calling me 'evil.'"

Budd backed away slightly like a dog who had been hit by his master.

"You have been nothing but trouble since the moment you were conceived."

"And how would you know? You were never there. I can count on one hand the number of times that you were there for me."

"Budd, it's kind of hard to be there for someone who always pushes everyone away, who never lets anyone close."

"I have, too," Budd defended himself, "but…but they always leave me."

"And whose fault is that?" asked Bill, his tone slightly malicious.

"You don't have any right to lay all of this on me, too. I lay it on myself every fucking day. I blame myself for everything."

He backed Bill against the wall.

"It was my fault about Bella. I shouldn't have trusted Gianni. I should have decided against staying out. It was my fault about the car accident. It was me she was picking up. I should have been home like she suggested."

"Well, mama wasn't your fault."

"No, but why was a seven year old placed in that situation in the first place? I killed my own father because you weren't there."

Budd began to smile in that way that uncomfortably reminded Bill of Paul.

"Just like you weren't there when Bea left that last time, the last time when she didn't look good. She looked like she was sick."

"Shut up."

"She looked sick so I asked. I asked her whether she was pregnant."

"Shut up."

"She said no but maybe…maybe she was lying."

"Maybe you are," said Bill, forcefully. They both looked at the monitor, but nothing happened.

"Am I? Or do you just refuse to see the truth?"

Bill shook his head. Budd had never seen him look older.

"Bea never wanted you to know…"

"Shut up."

"She never wanted you to know about the baby."

"Shut up."

"She knew what kind of parenting you were capable of."

"Shut up."

"She'd rather enter into a loveless marriage than marry you."

"Shut up."

"She didn't want the baby to turn out…to turn out like me."

Bill smacked Budd hard across the face and muttered softly, "Stop that. No." Budd backed away.

"Sooner or later, you'll get what you give," he said in a low voice.

"I hate you," said Bill.

"I hate you, too."

"I wish mom got rid of you before you were born like I told her to."

Budd grew red and clenched his fists, but he wouldn't give his brother the satisfaction.

"I never want to see you again," he said and ran for the front door. Bill ran after him, but was only halfway to the door when it slammed. Every window shook which was immediately followed by B.B. wailing. Bill sighed, took a last look at the door and went to his daughter.

Budd walked into the dusty dimlit pawn store. The N and T had been blown out. The man inside was greasy with wavy brown hair and eyes. He seemed to have one eye on the money at all times. Budd set his sword on the counter.

"That's not one of mine," the man said immediately.

"Do you want it to be?" asked Budd. The man looked wary, but picked the weapon up. He studied the sword that still shone despite being the first time it had been handled since he had almost killed Beatrix eight months prior. The pawn broker shook his head.

"I can't give you what it's worth. I'm not even sure whose it is."

"That's alright."

"I can…I can only offer you 250 dollars for it."

Budd thought it over. Bea's screams and the last thing his brother had said to him were echoing in his head.

"Some Christmas," muttered Budd.

"Please keep it. I don't know what kind of bind you're in, but none of my customers would truly appreciate this."

He held it for Budd to take back, the low lighting caught on the engraving.

To My Brother Budd, The Only Man I Ever Loved, from Bill

"Play something for us, Budd."

"If you could just get over your shit, you could do anything."

"Cheers, Sidewinder."

"I suppose you're right," said Budd and he took the sword back.

Bill looked at the recent picture of B.B. and remembered another four year old.

"I'm Superman," declared Budd with a bath towel tied around his shoulders, "and you're Lex Luthor."

"Why am I Lex Luthor?" asked Bill.

"Ok, we'll get Bella to play Lex Luthor."

"No, because I'm Wonder Woman," said their sister with a towel tied around her shoulders and a paper star taped to her forehead. Budd laughed and laughed. It was the laugh of someone so young that they can't comprehend anything in their whole life ever being funnier. Bill never grew tired of it…and now he missed it. Bill looked at the clock and noticed that it had been thirty-six minutes since he had called Ernie. He sighed and connected to Budd's cellphone. He wondered briefly if it was still a plain ring tone or Budd had changed it. Bill wanted to focus on anything but what Elle had said.

"Bill, this is Ernie," said the man who answered. In the background, Bill could hear Elle screaming, "I'll get you! I'll get that bitch!" Her voice was hoarse, but he knew it anywhere.

"Tell me," Bill said, trying to steel himself for the answer.

"¡Dios mío!" said Ernie, "Budd's dead, looks like snake got him on the face."

"The face? Are you sure?"

"Si."

"What about the blonde?"

"Esta mujer, esta puta, fucking chinga…I tell you."

"I know, I know. Don't. What is her supposed problem?"

"The bitch has no eyes…"

Bill cut him off at that point to confirm, "She has no eyes?"

"She's still kind of bleeding a little bit…oh…she's just…Can I kill her?"

"We'll see. Turn the volume up and give her the phone."

Ernie placed the phone in Elle's hand and helped her place it right.

"Bill."

"Elle."

"The bitch got my other eye. You have to kill her."

"It would be hard to kill someone who's already dead and buried under the name 'Paula Schultz'"

There were several seconds as Elle tried to come up with a plan, but only various sounds came out.

"You couldn't even come up with a plausible lie. Bea would never have done something so sneaky and underhanded. She would have wanted a fight mano y mano with their swords, only you would have done something so despicable as catching him off guard like that."

"Who said anything about catching him off guard?"

"His sister was practically a fucking herpetologist!" screamed Bill, louder than he wanted to be. He closed the office door and hoped that B.B. wasn't in hearing range.

"There's no need for that tone."

"I have absolutely every right to use this tone. You killed my brother!"

"I did not," said Elle, but not convincingly.

"He would have known what to do with a snake unless it was brought in without his knowledge while his guard was down. His guard wouldn't have been down while Bea was a threat so it was afterward when you showed up."

"But…"

"No, you have no say. You killed B…," started Bill, but he couldn't," You killed him and that is a most vile act of betrayal. I never want to see your face again. Beatrix may feel that you have been punished enough, but I do not. Give the phone back."

Elle held the phone out and Ernie took it.

"Give her the proper funeral that Budd would have wanted…a Texas one."

Ernie laughed in anticipation and Elle started to protest, but she was ignored.

"What about Budd?"

"My lawyer will take care of everything," said Bill, giving him a number, "Tell him that you're a friend of Snake Charmer and Ernie?"

"Si."

"Quiero sufrir ella," said Bill so that Elle wouldn't know.

"Oh, she will," said Ernie, noticing a red suitcase.

"Thanks," said Bill and he ended the call. Then he started to cry. It wasn't right.

Several minutes were spent this way. Bill finally realized that Budd was really gone.

Then there was a knock at the door. Bill wiped his face with a hankerchief and opened the door. It was B.B.

"Lunch time!" she announced.

"Is it?" asked Budd and she nodded.

"Who was that?" asked B.B. and he noticed that he still hadn't put down the phone.

"Was it uncle Budd?" she asked. She had just gotten over being mad at him for seeing Budd and not taking her. "He hasn't called me in forever."

In reality, it had only been three days since the phone had rung and Budd waited until Bill let Josephina answer. Then Josephina would hand the phone to Budd's niece. It was the accepted order of things since before the girl had been able to talk and Josephina provided updates on the girl.

Bill looked into those brown eyes that always reminded him of her grandmother and couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her.

"He said to tell you hello and that he loves you," her father lied and she smiled, not knowing any falsehood.

"Can we play Bang Bang later?"

"Of course," said Bill, looking at the little girl that meant so much to him. Budd was right. He would do _anything _to ensure her happiness.

"Mommy's coming soon."

"Really?"

"Yes," said Bill and she lit up.

"Then we'll be all together," said B.B. and Bill merely smiled. Then he did something that he didn't do that often. He picked her up and kissed her on the cheek.

"I love you," said Bill.

"I love you, too, daddy," said B.B., smiling, and they went to get lunch.

Anything not found below? Just email me.

**Character Background, followed by Story References and Explanations:**

Elisabetha Albacea was born in 1915 to Mexican parents living ilegally in Texas. Her father used forged papers to join the US army and fight in World War 1 and he used this to become a US citizen.

Unfortunately, tragedy struck. When Betty was three, her mother died from the Spanish Flu. Her father became over-protective which annoyed her. When she was eighteen, she ran away to Mexico and wound up as one of the Vihaio girls. It took three years for her father to track her down and when he did, Vihaio insisted on payment despite Esteban's pleas not to. Her father obliged but she still wouldn't go home. Mr. Albacea made Esteban promise to always look after her especially since one of her last customers left her pregnant. Bill was born on December 8, 1936.

Bill's father hadn't given Betty his real name so he was always anonymous.

Betty scraped by with Esteban's help. He took over the business when his father died.

Then World War 2 happened. Betty's father fought again, but he died on a submarine in the Pacific from a heart attack. Betty enjoyed the attention that the soldiers paid her, including one in particular named Ricky.

Ricky and Betty loved each other and he got along well with Bill. They had been engaged for three months when Ricky got on the wrong side of the wrong guy and was killed in a bar fight. She never got the chance to tell him that she was pregnant.

Bella was born on May 13, 1947.

With two illegitimate children, Betty began to doubt ever getting married but it wasn't until Bill was seventeen and Bella was seven that she worried about her mothering skills. She took her children back to church. It was at a church function that she met Paul.

Paul seemed like the perfect catch. It wasn't until two years into the relationship that Paul finally showed his true colors. He became abusive, both verbally and physically and Betty took it. She believed everything he said which provoked Esteban to action. He asked her for the first time in twenty years on a date and this time, she accepted.

This brings us up to February 1958 when the story begins.

**Story References and Explanations:**

**Albacea**-for those Spanish-challenged, it means Executor…perfect for an assassin family.

**Baby blue**-referring to his impending baby brother.

**Bilius**-named after Ron Weasley's uncle.

**Brian's description**-my nephew, Isaac.

**Brian Wulfric**-named after my nephew's cousin and Albus Dumbledore.

**Budd's 1st Life**-used up when Paul attacked Betty when she was only a month or so along. His twin sister didn't make it.

**Budd's 2nd Life**-used up when the cord ended up wrapped around his neck and he was oxygen deprived for a minute.

**Budd's 3rd Life**-used up when Paul came back, killed Betty and threatened Budd and Bella.

**Budd's 4th Life**-used up when he was almost bit by the Rattlesnake.

**Budd's 5th Life**-used up when he almost fatally overdosed on drugs with Bella.

**Budd's 6th Life**-used up when he was in the fatal car accident that claimed Marilyn and Brian.

**Budd's 7th Life**-used up when he tried to kill himself four months after the car accident.

**Budd's 8th Life**-used up when Beatrix came after him.

**Budd's 9th Life**-was taken by Elle and her special friend.

**Budd's description as a baby**-my nephew, Eric.

**Claude**-means lame, that's why he had a limp.

**Dylan, Bob**-remade A Satisfied Mind.

**Fang**-named partially after the dog.

**Fireworks**- fireworks going on in his head. There was red, green and yellow crisscrossing his consciousness. This is what happens in my head before I have a seizure.

**George**-dorm father no relation to Brown. I needed a generic name and later, I hated the name George so I gave it to the scumbucket.

**Hell as a hotel room**-No Exit by Sarte, I was Assistant Director for a production in senior year.

**Marilyn's Red Stapler**-from Office Space.

**Porter Wagoner's debut song**-A Satisfied Mind.

**Rape of Nanking**-required reading during my semester at college.

**Schnapps**-Icelandic Schnapps is Budd's drink according to a 2004 issue of Empire.

**Snikt**-Wolverine!

**Tattoos**- There was an angel and a wolf and others. The angel being Marilyn.

"The Mojave Rattlesnake's venom is the most lethal in North America. Look at the eyes. He wants to strike. He wants to kill us for disturbing his comfortable life. It's all in the eyes."

This later could refer to Budd in his killing of George Brown.

**Two year old boy with light brown hair**-my nephew, Evan and the correct age for the time.

**V encyclopedia book**-the same book that Joey bought on Friends.

**Vegetarians**-like my mom.

**Wolfe**-What? Don't trust wolves, simple.

You can't let a ho get ya down."

This refers to Marilyn.


End file.
